


Black and Blue

by A_Shields



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe, Angst, Ben is Ben, Blackmail, Callum and Lola are best friends, Callum's a paramedic, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Domestic Violence, Slow Burn, past depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Shields/pseuds/A_Shields
Summary: Callum loves his job, he’s been a paramedic for 3 years now and has never been happier. Every time he puts on his uniform his heart swells with pride and a belonging he’s never felt before. He expected that feeling to dampen over time, but it hasn’t. Alongside his partner and best friend Lola, they work hard to keep the residents of Walford safe, responding to whatever is thrown at them with professionalism and composure.That is, until one call when Callum is introduced to Ben Mitchell, and his life will never be the same again.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 96
Kudos: 141





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, another paramedic au no one asked for. Its so much more Callum than a police officer though, idk what EE are doing there. 
> 
> This is my first au and multichapter and I'm nervous to post it/ don't really know why I'm doing it so please be kind. I'll add more tags/ character tags as I go.
> 
> Also I am not a paramedic/ medical professional so apologies for any inaccuracies (I'm sure there will be many).
> 
> As always, apologies for any mistakes, thanks for reading, stay safe and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> tw: some flash backs and talk of blood in the first chapter.

“Alpha 4318 to control, call received and in transit. ETA 6 minutes. Over.” The words trickle out of Callum’s mouth effortlessly as he switches on the sirens and lights, giving a quick quirk of the lips and eyebrow raise over to his partner, Lola as if to say _go time_ before setting off and weaving through the infamous London traffic racing towards the next emergency. This process is ingrained in Callum’s mind he’s done it so many times, but each call brings something new, something exciting. Callum loves how two calls with almost identical descriptions from control can play out completely differently in reality, when you’re there in the flesh. It sounds daunting to most, Callum thinks it should be to him, not knowing what he’s going into each time, not knowing if he is safe, it should scare him shitless. But it doesn’t, if anything it makes him come alive, sends his blood coursing through his veins even faster, hot with anticipation.

It’s precisely 6 minutes later when he’s pulling up outside The Arches, a garage on the fringes of Albert Square. He follows Lola into the dingy building, grabbing his equipment bag and defibrillator because you never know what might happen.

“Yeah, yeah they’re here, thanks. Bye.” The unknown voice shakes, and it’s vulnerability grabs Callum’s attention. He looks to the source of the sound. A young, stocky man a fair bit shorter than Callum stands before him, his brown hair dishevelled, and lips drawn into a tight line. But his eyes, god, his _eyes._

They’re a pale blue, a shade that should look cold and harsh, but they don’t. They’re inviting, with a vibrancy that makes them appear almost reflective and Callum thinks he could drown in them. But a hardness clouds the edges that tells Callum to watch himself. A hunter has to lure in their prey in before they go in for the kill. Another thought intrudes Callum’s consciousness, _god how they would look when he’s smiling, laughing in a way that lights him up._ His chest aches to see it, to _feel_ whatever feelings he’s sure that sight would stir in him. But right now, he’s not smiling. His face is tight and locked, trained into an expressionless mask that doesn’t give anything away. His eyes betray him, though, his beautiful, beautiful eyes, show his true pain, the fear that’s threatening to tip him over the edge. From what he can see, Callum assumes that this man isn’t one to ask for help often, so the mere fact that him and Lola are here shows that he must really feel out of his depth.

“I’m Lola Pearce, this is Callum Highway. We’re here to help you.” Lola attempts to placate the man, who seems to harden even more at her words.

“Ben Mitchell” he replies as she starts rooting around in her equipment bag.

_Right, the job. Yes._

He thinks back to the description from control, as if it wasn’t looping through his mind the whole way there. Man in his late 50’s with a thoracic wound, moderate blood loss and drifting in and out of consciousness. Callum takes a breath, assessing the scene, _moderate blood loss_ was a bit of an understatement.

Callum loves his job, he’s been doing it for 3 years now and has never been happier. Every time he puts on his uniform his heart swells with pride and a belonging he’s never felt before. He expected that feeling to dampen over time, but he’s both pleased and pleasantly surprised that it hasn’t. He lives for his job, and yeah, it’s hard at times, and some things really do stay with you, but the bad times are greatly outnumbered by the good. He sees the worst, yes, the most senseless things, but also the best of humanity, and nothing can beat the feeling of knowing you’ve helped someone, _saved their life._

It’s not only the patients, but their loved ones too, helping them through what is such a scary time is something Callum thrives on. He doesn’t always get a thanks, not the words at least, but he can see it, _feel_ it every time someone smiles at him who before was in pain or crying, worried out of their mind but Callum has worked to dissipate their concern; convert their worry lines into ones that map out a smile instead.

This job is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, even in the Army, having to think on his feet and keep a clear mind constantly and be accountable for people’s lives is a big responsibility but it’s one that he loves and he copes well with whatever is thrown at him. Even his boss, Shirley, a hard, stern yet surprisingly funny- when she wants to be- woman who has seen it all and takes no crap has said so. A praise which may have prompted Callum to have a little cry in his car on the way home that day because _yes. He is good at what he does, and he finally fits._

Despite his confidence and praise from the unflappable Shirley Carter, sights like this always unnerve Callum. The blood spreading quickly, staining everything it touches with the scarlet that’s so necessary for life but so analogous with death. The pallor that comes with extensive bleeding, colourless lips and heavy eyelids, the times when literally all you can do is watch and wait as the life drains out of someone.

Its these situations that takes Callum back to a time he never wants to revisit, a time of anguished screams and Earth-shattering explosions rattling him to his core. Of constantly looking over his shoulder marching to the irregular melody of bullet casings crunching underfoot that makes him think he’d prefer a grisly RTC over this any day.

“Is your dad on any medication?” Lola starts her assessment, starting with possibly the most important question. It draws Callum out of his trance, the popping of gunfire becoming fainter by the second.

“Uh, yeah. He takes cyclosporin, prednisolone and oh god what’s the other one. ‘My’ something” Ben is fidgety, clearly agitated that he can’t remember the name of the last drug.

“Mycophenolate.” Callum supplies. It’s the first thing he’s said since arriving. Ben stills, and look up at Callum, his eyes wide and electric.

“Yeah, yeah that’s the one. He had a liver transplant a few years back.” Ben informed, then, quieter, “he’s a recovering alcoholic.”

Callum nods and shares a glance with Lola. “Infection could cause a problem then, we should get him out of here asap.” He adds, once again taking in the surroundings, if a surface isn’t stained with blood it’s got a hearty layer of grease or oil on it. Not the best place for an immunocompromised man to be bleeding out on the floor, if ever there was one.

“Category 2, maybe 3 haemorrhage.” Lola muses, looking around at the blood surrounding them and Callum nods in agreement, swallowing down bile. “Callum, we’re gonna need to put a line in, can you get me the stuff? Think I’ll do a fluid run up too, in case his BP decides to cause us any problems” Callum nods again, getting a saline bag ready. Lola is crouched next to the patient, Phil he thinks he heard someone say in the distance, and Ben is sat on the other side of his father, a tentative hand on his arm. Lola’s eyes are trained on Callum, soft and understanding because she knows how he can get with these types of calls, yet determined and purposeful because they have a man’s life in their hands.

Callum jolts, moving quickly towards his equipment bag to retrieve the apparatus and assorted drugs Lola is telling him they will need. He fumbles with the zip of the bag, unsure if his nerves are due to the memories evoked by the last few moments or the pair of cool blue eyes he can feel on him, making his skin prickle like he’s on fire.

“Can you tell us what happened here?” Lola asks. Callum gives her the cannulation kit and she quickly goes about putting a cannula in Phil’s arm as Callum takes over applying pressure to his bleeding wound.

“Uh, yeah.” Ben stands, rubbing his eye harshly.” He was working on a car and the bonnet slipped, pushed him down and he fell on the screwdriver. And well…” he gestures to Callum’s blood-stained hands on his father’s side. “You can see the damage for yourselves.”

If Callum wasn’t already suspicious of Ben and this whole situation, he was now. Ben is lying. Callum has seen his fair share of trauma to know that this is clearly a bullet graze. He decides to keep that quiet- for now. Ben doesn’t seem like the kind of person you wanted to get on the wrong side of and that’s without the full force of his father, a block which Callum is sure Ben is only a chip off of. He’ll tell the doctor when they get to A&E, by which time Phil and Ben Mitchell will no longer be Callum’s problem.  
  


“Can I take some details from you?” Callum has taken Ben aside while Lola preps Phil in the ambulance, Ben nods. “What is your dad’s date of birth?”

  
“20th of January 1961” Callum nods, noting down the details on his clipboard.

“Perfect. Ok, and his address?” Ben’s eyes narrow, to which Callum’s only response is a shrug of his shoulders, a blank look on his face. It’s a perfectly routine question.

Ben sighs “55 Victoria Road, Albert Square. E20.”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard was it?” Even Callum is surprised at his brashness, he’s not sure where it came from, this guy is getting to him, and Callum was already unnerved by all the blood and memories. Ben, however, just seems to find it amusing. Callum clears his throat. “You uh, are you his next of kin?”

“Well I’m his son, yeah.” Ben speaks slowly, like he’s talking to someone who’s a bit slow on the uptake and looking at him likes he’s an idiot that’s escaped from his village and it lights a fire in the pit of Callum’s stomach.

_Yes. I know that, thanks._

Callum takes a breath and paints a polite smile on his face, something that is usually effortless for him, but the cocky, leather jacket clad arsehole in front of him is making anything other than punching him in the face feel like a Herculean effort.

“I meant, does your dad have a wife or partner or something? Or are you his next of kin?” he clarifies through gritted teeth.

“Think I preferred you when you didn’t speak.” Callum feels the tips of his ears redden, he’s not usually so passive on calls but the sight of so much blood and the man stood beside him made this one a bit too much for him, not that he would ever admit to the latter. “Him and his wife are separated. Just chuck me down.”

“Amazing” Callum smiles, he’s overdoing it, he knows, but if he can just get Phil’s details processed and them to hospital then he’s done. And he has to be professional, of course, so he’s gone for the ‘kill them with kindness’ approach. “Can I get your phone number?”

Ben turns to face him, a quick, exaggerated, almost comical turn, with a cocky smirk on his lips and regards Callum like the most interesting thing in the world that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“My, my, my, Mr…Highway, was it? I’d usually get a bloke to buy me a drink first at the very _least_ before giving out that kind of information.” He stretches his legs out and moves his arms in an exaggerated loop to lock his fingers behind his head. He’s taking up the most space he can, invading Callum’s space and despite it annoying the shit out of him he can’t ignore the thrill it sends down his spine. “But seeing as its you…” He pauses, eyes locked on Callum’s searching for something Callum isn’t sure exists. “I guess I will oblige.” His teasing is backed up by a dazzling smile, the perfect juxtaposition to the intense stare of mere seconds ago, and Callum suddenly feels lightheaded.

 _Fuck,_ what is going on?

“F-fo. Form.” His mouth is like sandpaper, he swallows, or tries to at least, before trying to speak again. Maybe he is the village idiot. “It’s for the form. Not me. I- I’m at work.”

“Right,” he licks his lips, tilting his head to the side to get another angle on Callum “so that’s the only thing stopping you from asking for my number, is it? The fact that you’re at work?” Ben looks thoroughly entertained, like all he needs is a bag of popcorn and tonight’s entertainment is sorted.

Callum panics, his eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like an automatic door off a busy walkway. “Cat got your tongue?”

Shitting _hell._

“Mr Mitchell” he shakes his head in an attempt to land himself back into reality where he is capable of speech “please fill in this form and give it back to me when we get to the hospital. We should get going now.” He steps towards the ambulance, thankful that his legs are stronger than his brain power, _or his comebacks,_ and moves to call ahead to the hospital, informing them of who they’re bringing in.

He catches Lola’s eye, who’s been busy getting Phil hooked up to machines in the ambulance, but clearly not busy enough. She gives him a look that says lays somewhere between “what the fuck” and “go on my son” that tells him she’s been listening to every word of his exchange with Ben, and Callum knows he’ll never hear the end of it. Fantastic.

Under the watchful eye of Ben, Callum and Lola get everything ready to go. His watch reads that only two minutes have passed, but the process seemed to take an age under Ben’s intense scrutiny. He passes Lola, taking the keys from her hand. She looks up at him in surprise “I’ll drive, if that’s ok?”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” She offers him a small smile, and he’s grateful for her empathy. He knows she knows this would have been a tough one for him, and that was before the complication of Ben Mitchell opening his mouth.

He slips into the driver’s seat, feeling the steering wheel cool and solid under his fingers and sets off in response to Lola knocking twice on the divider, a nonverbal _good to go._

Minutes later he’s reversing the ambulance into its bay and offloading Phil, both from the ambulance and his care, and takes a breath. He lets Lola do most of the handover while they wheel Phil into resus.

“Bill, can I have a word?” He takes the Consultant to the side, lowering his voice. “Just thought you should know, it says the wound was caused by a screwdriver in the notes but if you ask me, that’s a bullet wound. Not penetrating, but definitely a deep graze.”

Bill nods, taking in the new information. “That’s good to know, thanks for that Callum” he smiles warmly before heading into resus to tend to Phil. Callum smiles, feeling pride wash over him. He likes Bill, he’s a good guy and he actually listens to Callum and the other paramedics, something that not all doctors at his level do.

“Your form, Sir.” Callum’s ears prick up at the sound of Ben’s voice. In all the hubbub of arriving at the hospital Callum had almost forgotten Ben was in the ambulance with them. He turns to see Ben dramatically holding the clipboard out to Callum at arm’s length, a smirk on his lips, challenging the paramedic.

_Don’t rise to it, Highway._

“Thank you” he takes the clipboard with a sweet smile; it seems that Ben Mitchell is a cat with nine lives.

Callum’s mind starts to swirl when Ben doesn’t move, and he becomes hyperaware to the fact that a silence has formed. Just as he opens his mouth, to say something stupid most likely, he is saved as his walkie talkie crackles to life, reminding him that he’s here to work. He listens to the call “Alpha 4318 to control, Received. Over”

He looks up and Ben is _still_ there, a look on his face Callum can’t quite get a handle on. At a loss for anything else to do he raises his walkie talkie in the air slightly “duty calls”.

 _Really, Callum?_ Well, he’ll be playing that over in his mind before he falls asleep later.

Ben scrunches up his face, “I prefer booty calls myself” he says matter of factly, giving Callum a wink for good measure.

Callum barely has time to recover his face from the shock of Ben’s unexpected comment and nod awkwardly before Lola is rushing towards him, two coffees in tow, grabbing his arm and reminding him in a singsong voice “come on you, we’ve got work to do” before pulling him with her back to the ambulance.

An hour and a half later, Callum is driving back to the Ambulance Station, Lola is fiddling with the radio trying to find some decent music, not that she and Callum share the same opinions on what ‘decent’ music is, which is a topic they playfully bicker about frequently. They’re not really that bothered about what they listen to, but a bit of friendly banter helps to pass the long night shifts.

Their last call of the night was to an elderly woman with breathing difficulties, Doris. She was a sweetheart with a smile that could light up a room- and did, once Callum and Lola had helped her. She was downright charming, telling them stories of her life, about her late husband and their epic love story. Hearing her talk about her life and love filled Callum with a warmth he didn’t recognise, but then Doris’ son informed Callum and Lola that Doris had stage four cancer and the warmth inside Callum was replaced with a pit in his stomach at the knowledge that Doris was not long for this world.

She must have seen the change in Callum, because she placed her hand on his cheek and gave it a light squeeze. “Don’t worry, my boy. I’ve had a good innings. I’ve fallen in love and laughed and done things I probably shouldn’t have, but now they’re stories for me to tell, some of the best ones in fact.” She says, winking, and gives him a cheeky grin. Evidence of a life well lived. “It’s so easy to get lost in all the things you should or shouldn’t be doing but once you step outside of that, that’s when you start to live. I’m not telling what you should or shouldn’t do with your life, you’re a young, handsome man, you’ll figure it out for yourself.” Her voice changes unexpectedly, it’s stronger and has more conviction, more life in it than Callum thought she had left in her. She spoke as if these were her parting words to the world that she would scream off a rooftop if she had the chance.” But when you do, oh boy when you figure out what you were put on this earth for, you have to believe in it and live it completely. And you don’t let anyone get in your way of that, you hear me?”.

Callum was speechless, what the _hell_ do you say to that? All he could offer was a watery smile of thanks and a weak nod, and god, he hoped she knew how grateful he was. He shared a look with Lola, and if her shining eyes and dazed expression were anything to go by, she'd heard Doris’ words as loudly and clearly as Callum had.

He’s seen a recurring theme of people coming to the end of their life and wanting to have left a mark on the world, have people remember them long after they have taken their last breath. Well, tonight Doris did just that. Her words will stay with Callum until the day he dies, and, he suspects, with Lola too.

Moments like these were one of Callum’s favourite parts of his job, getting to meet people, speak to them and really listen to what they had to say. He has learnt more about life and love and himself through this job and his patients than he ever thought possible, and he always found people like Doris, those who have been cast aside because of their age and ailing health, forgotten by the rest of society, to be the most insightful and generous of people. _Age is not a disease._ The words come back to him like a prayer, another life lesson taught to him by someone no longer able to share their life’s learnings.

Eventually, Lola and Callum decided not to take Doris in to hospital, her and her son all but begged them to let her stay at home, live out whatever time she had left in the comfort of her home and company of her loved ones. They left feeling pensive yet optimistic, finding strength in Doris’ resolve.

He parks up in the Ambulance station and he and Lola fall into their routine of restocking the ambulance, working efficiently and silently, their experience with Doris clearly still playing on both their minds.

Half an hour later, Lola has perked up, she’s rushing out the door before Callum has even gotten changed. “What’s the hurry?”

“Jay’s come to pick me up, taking me for breakfast.”

“Ooh check you out, little miss breakfast date!” she gives a coy smile “things are going well with Jay then?”

“Oh yeah, great. I know it’s only been a few months but honestly Cal, I’m so happy” and she looks it, she’s beaming ear to ear, a smile Callum has seen often over the last few months.

“I’m happy for ya Lo, I really am” Lola has been his partner for almost a year and a half now and she’s one of his best friends. She was one of the first people he came out to almost a year ago and he trusts her with his life. It makes his heart sing to see her so genuinely happy.

“Thanks mate, we’ve just gotta get you sorted with a fit bloke now yeah? Maybe one that goes by the name of Ben-“ Callum holds up his hand, cutting her off. Great. _Him_ again.

“Uh no thanks, not interested.”  
“Yeah? Maybe tell your face that” she elaborates when she’s met with confusion “come on Callum, you were so checking him out earlier”. She stares at him wide eyed, like what she’s saying is the most obvious thing in the world.

For what feels like the hundredth time today, Callum’s moth flaps open and closed, trying desperately but failing to conjure up any words to his defence. “Ah, whatever” Lola sighs “you baby gays are so cute” she laughs and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go get breakfast with my sexy boyfriend!”

Callum laughs, before calling to her retreating frame “Don’t get too carried away, you’ve gotta be back here in 12 hours” to which he receives a middle finger in reply. He laughs, typical Lola.

After getting changed and a quick chat to his colleagues Whitney and Martin who had just come on shift, Callum was finally on his way out the door. His watch tells him that he needs to be back and reporting for duty in just over eleven hours, a period that feels too short to recover from such an emotionally taxing shift, but also scares him in it’s expanse, providing him time to mull over this shift. With his flashbacks at the Arches and experience with Doris this shift has been more emotionally draining than most. And that’s before the throws Ben Mitchell into the mix. Why he’s even a passing thought in Callum’s mind he can’t, or perhaps _won’t_ entertain but he’s there nevertheless, and it’s getting on Callum’s nerves.

He’s almost at his car when he sees him. Ben, looking like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, pacing, then sitting on a bench, then pacing again. Cigarette balanced between his fingers and hair dishevelled, he looks lost. Despite himself, Callum feels an ache spread through his chest and the image from earlier of Ben’s eyes looking so panicked and wide and _blue_ invade his thoughts. Before he has time to register what he’s doing, let alone what a _bad idea_ it is, his legs are carrying him towards the one thing his common sense is screaming at him to avoid.


	2. Blueberry Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just has Callum decides he’s ready to go home, beat enough to not have to think about anything anymore and collapse onto his bed only to be woken a few hours later, a blueberry muffin is unceremoniously placed onto the table in front of him. 
> 
> “You look like a blueberry man to me” Ben stands above him, eyes bright, seemingly very pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated a bit sooner than I expecteed, but I've been writing like crazy and want to try to get this out before I lose momentum. I'm not sure how I feel about that chapter tbh, but I'm excited for future ones so wanted to get it posted.
> 
> tw: mention of previous domestic abuse and alcoholism.

“Ben?” Callum approaches him tentatively, placing a hand on his arm. Ben jumps slightly at his touch and turns to face him, eyes alert.

“What? Oh- it’s you” despite his hostile words, Ben's body visibly relaxes at the sight of Callum, and Callum feels his own shoulders relax a little. “Shouldn’t you be off helping old women cross the road or something?” he quips, dragging his eyes up and down Callum’s body in a very unsubtle way that’s less cocky and more unguarded, his exhaustion causing his mask of bravado to slip. All in all, Callum finds it endearing, and a warmth nestles itself in his chest.

Callum ignores the comment and takes in the man in front of him. He realises it has been a few hours since he and Lola brought Ben and his dad, Phil, in and it looks like they had taken their toll on the younger man. Purple bags have formed under his eyes, his shoulders slumping low and his feet drag with every step, he looks exhausted. Not just physically, this is a mental exhaustion that Callum recognises instantly, _knows_ all too well.

Ben seems uneasy under Callum’s observation, and he should stop, look away and leave, go home and _get some sleep_. Instead, he finds himself wondering what emotional torture has caused Ben’s turmoil, what keeps him up at night and if these two men who met by chance may both be plagued by some common demons.

“How’s your dad?” Clearly that was the wrong thing to say because Ben bristles, the tensions that he had released moments ago re-staking their claim to his body and then some. He clenches his jaw and juts it upwards in a move that while intimidating, Callum suspects is a rehearsed display, and not one that quite suits Ben. His eyes turn cold and hard and Callum feels his mouth go dry, ok, _this_ is intimidating.

“What’s it to you?” he scoffs, firing the words to the other man. “You’ve done your bit, now leave me and my dad alone.” His tone is even and hard, measured and Callum feels a coldness spreading through his body. Before he has a chance to say anything else, Ben is moving, chucking his cigarette at Callum’s feet and sauntering back towards the hospital, leaving Callum staring after him.

Callum sits slumped on a chair, staring into cup of coffee that has long since gone cold, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind thankfully, _finally,_ numb to his swirling thoughts. He’s been sat there for too long and is starting to feel stiff, pain creating a roadmap of where his vertebrae press against the unyielding wood. The hubbub of the cafeteria has long since settled into a wash of white noise, only the occasional clatter of plates, scrape of cutlery or whoosh of the coffee machine breaking through the void.

He watches his finger as it swirls around the rim of the mug, needing to busy himself with something, root himself to the real world somehow.

Just has he decides he’s ready to go home, beat enough to not have to think about anything anymore, and collapse onto his bed only to be woken a few hours later, a blueberry muffin is unceremoniously placed onto the table in front of him.

“You look like a blueberry man to me” Ben stands above him, eyes bright, looking to be in better spirits than an hour or so ago, seemingly very pleased with himself.

“What?” Callum sits up, suddenly aware that he hasn’t slept in 18 hours and must look like utter shit.

“The muffin. They had chocolate but I thought you looked more like a blueberry guy.” Ben clarifies with a shrug, dropping his eyes from Callum’s.

_What the-_

“Oh. Uh- thanks?”

“You’re welcome” Ben gives him a soft smile and _fuck_ Callum wasn’t prepared for that. Something else he wasn’t prepared for, was Ben sitting down, looking at Callum with an expression he couldn’t place.

“Hello.” Callum’s voice was wearier than he wanted it to sound, but still didn’t give away all of the scepticism he was currently feeling, so that’s better than nothing.

“Hi” Ben looked expectant, like he was waiting for Callum to say something. Ask him about his dad maybe or try to reassure him, well, unlucky for Ben, Callum was off shift, knackered and more than done with the man in front of him.

“Why are you still here? You’ve been working all night, ain’t ya? I’d be at home tucked up in bed by now if I was you.”

“Got paperwork to do” the lie slips out of Callum’s mouth before he can register it, well, it’s not technically a lie. He does have paperwork to do, a mountain in fact and he silently curses himself for letting it pile up, but that's not why he's still here. “What are _you_ doing here anyway? Thought you wanted me to leave you alone?”

Callum’s not surprised when Ben ignores his questions. “I was wondering if you could help me with something, clear something up for me” his tone is even, but a mischievous glint briefly flashes in his eyes, sending Callum’s back up.

_Oh god_

“What?”

“Well, while you and blondie went out to help some old lady back into her rocking chair I was pondering where exactly along your enlightened journey of bright eyed and bushy tailed baby Callum realising he ain’t smart enough to be a doctor to telling a _real_ doctor that my dad had been shot”

Unsurprisingly, Ben Mitchell doesn’t beat around the bush.

_Fuck._

His heart quickens and he can feel himself getting hot. Ben wasn’t meant to know what Callum had told Bill, how did he know? Had Bill let it slip? No, he’s much to experienced and discrete for that. Ben must have heard them talking. Shit, come on Callum, first rule of army training is _watch your back_.

He’s not sure what possesses him to give this answer, perhaps the fact that his body aches with fatigue, or, most likely, the fact that Ben already knows what he did, and while he could play along with Ben’s game, he won’t. His number is already up.

“Via Afghanistan”

Ben’s cocky smile falters, eyes scanning Callum for evidence, like a beret will materialise on his head, a gun in his hand if Ben looks closely enough. Ben opens his mouth to speak, but no words follow, unable to hide his surprise at Callum being more than he says on the tin. _Good._ let him be surprised. Wipe the smug look of his face. Callum doesn’t know why Ben had gotten to him so much, but he has a burning want to prove him wrong, to show Ben that he wasn’t just some soft do-gooder who wants to help people because he’s just that _good_. He has substance. He’s seen more than most his age. He ignores the niggling voice telling him that he wants to _impress_ Ben.

“Ooh. Not as vanilla as we look, are we?” He recovers his form quickly, it seems it takes a lot to stump Ben Mitchell.

“Tease all you want, Lola and I saved your dad’s life earlier.” Callum is tired, _really tired_ and its been a long time since he had any energy for anyone who disrespected his work. He does his job for the love of it and expects no thanks in return. For as long has he can remember the prospect of him running into god knows what situation to save people’s lives has just felt like something he was meant to do. His reasons for joining the army weren’t so clear, but again, he didn’t expect to be treated like a hero just because he put on a uniform, especially when he was using it as a shield against his true self.

But the truth is is that Callum does risk his life to save others, and he did serve his country. It took him a long time to realise that, accept that what he does is special, and maybe even a little bit heroic, and not just _what people do_. And while he won’t be advertising that fact, if someone wants to quietly thank him, then he will take it with a smile. But anyone who belittles that, and there are some- his dad for one- is not someone Callum gives the time of day. Not usually, anyway.

“What, so I’m meant to thank you for saving daddy dearest’s life am I?” he laughs, like his father’s life is disposable to him “honestly mate, you caused more problems than you solved. Just keep your nose out of where it don’t belong and we won’t have any more problems, alright?” His stare is intense, unwavering, and Callum swallows a little harder than normal.

As incensed as he is at Ben’s clear indifference to Callum literally _saving his father’s life,_ not to mention the very clear threat he just made, Callum knows to pick his battles, and that he and Ben could probably go round in circles all day arguing about this. Frankly, he’s too tired, and a glance at his watch tells him he has 10 hours and 41 minutes until he has to be back at the station. _Why is he still here?_

“Whatever.” He waves his hand, scolding himself for his poor decision making of the last few hours and resigning himself to that fact that he will be dead on his feet on his shift tonight.

“Seriously?” Ben huffs out a laugh “I just threatened you and all you can say is ‘whatever’? God, you took it a lot better than Bill. Guess that’s what I get for trying to scare off an _Army Man_ ” he widens his eyes in feigned wonder, again knowing exactly what buttons to push.

It worked.

“What did you do to Bill?” Callum’s leaning across the table, more tense and alert than he’s been since receiving Phil’s call, meanwhile Ben is sat back in his chair, examining his nail bed without a care in the world. His apparent serenity is interrupted though, by what he makes no effort to hide what he perceives as a very stupid question from Callum.

“Threatened. Him.” He’s speaking in that slow, deliberate voice again, annunciating every syllable sending waves of annoyance prickling down Callum’s spine. “Oh keep your knickers on, or don’t” he adds conversationally, winking, like it’s nothing, and it sends waves of something _else_ down Callum’s spine. “He’s fine. He just knows he won’t be if he goes blabbing. Same goes to you, but you know that, don’t you?”

“Ben, please, he didn’t do anything. He’s a good guy, he has a family. Don’t hurt him.” Callum hates how much it sounds like he’s pleading with _Ben fucking Mitchell_ but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Interesting”

“Wh- what’s interesting” Callum moves back in his chair, the soreness of his back against the hard wood numbed by the slip of icy dread down his spine as he realises he’s somehow given too much away.

“Well, I threaten you and its water off a duck’s back. But I threaten Bill, some middle-aged doctor and his family- thanks for that tip by the way- and you lose your shit.”

Callum’s mouth is dry again, he takes a sip of his very cold coffee to wet his mouth, an insurance that he will be able to speak. “And you think that’s interesting?” He’s grateful when his voice doesn’t shake. Small victories.

“Fascinating.” Ben is trying to get a rise out of him, imploring Callum to ask for the findings of whatever psychoanalysis Ben has performed on him. He doesn’t ask, partly to not give the cocky git sat across from him the satisfaction, partly because he knows Ben will be right.

Ben’s been quiet for a while, his features unreadable. Both of them have taken to looking around the cafeteria, watching the early morning comings and goings of visitors, patients and various hospital staff, a few of whom give Callum warm smiles and waves, something that seems to irritate Ben.

After yet another yawn, his eyes pricking with tiredness Callum decides it’s time to make his excuses. He's unlucky, though, because it seems Ben is a mind reader. He shifts, pushing the long-forgotten blueberry muffin towards Callum.

“Eat your muffin, its rude to decline a gift” Callum’s eyes narrow, suspicion edging into his consciousness. “Don’t worry, I ain’t poisoned it or nothing” he sounds both amused and offended, and Callum hates offending people, even if they have just threatened him. He _is_ hungry, a fact that has been playing on his mind increasingly since he realised he hasn’t eaten anything since a banana at 2am. Sighing, he takes a bite of the muffin, and is thoroughly embarrassed at the groan that escapes him at the presence of sustenance. Ben was right, he is a blueberry guy.

“Thanks” he mumbles through a mouthful of muffin, a stray crumb shooting out of his mouth on to the floor that Ben follows with his eyes.

“Say it, don’t spray it mate.” He chuckles, with only a faint look of disgust.

They fall into another silence as Callum finishes his muffin, and for someone who _hates_ silence, Callum feels somewhat comfortable.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, in the car park. I shouldn’t have been so rude to ya. Just worried about my dad is all.” Ben’s gaze flickers around the room, not settling anywhere for long, avoiding Callum’s eyes at all costs.

 _What the-_ Callum feels like a ten-tonne lorry has just hit him, Ben is _apologising?_ But hang on, something isn’t quite right.

“Wait, so you apologise for being rude but not for threatening me?” he has to clarify, make sure he’s not got the wrong end of the stick, because of all the things Ben has said to him since they met, asking for time alone is the last thing he should be apologising for.

Ben shrugs. “You didn’t care about me threatening you, but you looked like a kicked puppy when I left you in the car park.”

“No I didn’t” it was weak, not even convincing to Callum’s own ears.

“Yeah. You did.” _Great._

Ben takes a deep breath, and Callum feels it brushing over his skin, featherlight, when it’s released. “They took him into surgery, something about internal bleeding.”

“What? You should go, be with him. Don’t let me stop you.” _Why would you stop him?_

“Nah, he’s knocked out still, dead to the world. And to be honest I could do with a breather.” He looks sullen, a contrast to his unfeeling words. Callum thinks this is somewhat of a pattern with Ben, words and feelings not matching up, a constant war raging as to what will win out, his heart or his head. Callum knows the conflict well, has lived it for almost 29 years, he’s become an expert in it, able recognise it in a man he’s just met.

“So that’s what you was doing outside? You know, getting some nice fresh air and filling your lungs with cigarette smoke?” Ben smiles at Callum’s disapproval, because _of course_ he does. It fades quickly though, and he looks pensive, pulling the cuff of his sleeve over his hand clearly contemplating something.

“I resent him, you know. For this, well, for a lot of things really. Too many to count.” He shakes his head, releasing a mirthless laugh. “But this, I don’t know. It takes me back to his transplant. He was so ill I thought he was gonna die. And while that scared the shit out of me, I was so… angry at the same time. Because he _chose_ it. He chose to drink himself to death, or near enough anyway. He had a family, kids and everything but every time he put a drink to his lips he chose that over us. I know this ain’t the same but” he exhales, head in his hands “I guess just being back in the hospital brings it all back.”

It was literally the last thing Callum expected Ben to say, and suddenly Callum feels more awake than he has in days.

“He didn’t choose it. He was ill.” Ben’s head shoots up, eyes electric, ready for a fight.

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? Do you know how much I don’t _care_?”

“I could take a punt.” Callum swallows, the younger man’s eyes narrow. “All I’m saying is that you can’t take it personally. I know its hard not to, especially when every drink he had felt like some kind of personal attack, but that ain’t how he saw it, and if he knew then, well, he might have-“

“What? Stopped drinking?” Ben is incredulous, and his wild eyes make Callum recoil a little. “Oh, that is _precious”_ Ben fires venom with his words, and Callum takes a body blow. “You think I didn’t ask him to stop? Tell him how much we all hated his drinking? He knew he had a problem and how much we all suffered, and it didn’t make a blind bit of difference, Callum. So don’t you come in here and tell me that it was _my_ fault.”

“What? No Ben, no its not your fault of course its not. That ain’t what I was saying. It just- I-“he takes a breath, which extinguishes the panic rising in him just enough for him to continue. “I found it easier to compartmentalise.” Ben’s gaze is on him again, he can feel it, so he stares back into the murky abyss of his abandoned coffee. “I had to separate the drunk beast from the man my dad was when he wasn’t drunk, not that he made many appearances.” He exhales a breath so big he feels like there’s no air left in his lungs, _why are you saying this._ “I dunno, I guess it was just easier for me to believe that the guy that slapped us about weren’t real, and that if my dad, the one who actually loved us knew him then, well, he would have kicked the shit out of him. Truth is though that I don’t know if that man even existed.”

Ripples start to form in his coffee, the same way they did in his cola when he was 7 yeas old and his father was beating his mum in the next room. A ripple forming every time she was slammed into the joining wall, the surface barely having time to smooth out before the next wave would hit. He raises his gaze to a child banging a tray on the bin next to their table, being a bit overzealous with his task to dispose of rubbish. Causing ripples through coffee, ripples through time.

Callum busies himself with hiding his shaking hands under the table, balling them tight and pressing them against his thighs. Forcing his whitened knuckles into his flesh, forcing his thoughts away from his father, back to Ben and the cafeteria where the bin boy was now screaming at his mother, having fallen and cut his knee. Callum should help, at least offer to, he usually would, but he’s not feeling like his usual self right now, and he wishes he had just gone home when he had the chance.

He’s not sure why he said all that, he could blame it on the tiredness, feeling physically and emotionally drained equating to loose lips. But if he’s really honest with himself, Ben makes him talk. Say things he’s never said out loud before, things he’s never realised he needed to verbalise.

When he finally plucks up the courage to look up, meeting Ben’s eyes he immediately wishes he hadn’t, Ben looked shellshocked. He has seen this look in the faces of many people in his life, concerned family members or passers-by on particularly nasty calls, in the eyes of his fellow soldiers, tormented by the horrors of war. But never has it made his heart sink, his breath catch in the way it does seeing it on Ben’s face, in his eyes.

And if he didn’t know better, he’d think that there were tears shining in Ben’s eyes. _You don’t know better, you met him a few hours ago._ The voice is right, logically yes, that is true. But something niggles in Callum’s mind, feeling like he’s known Ben for much longer.

They just stare at each other for a while. No words exchanged for anyone else to hear, but an entire conversation spoken through their eyes. It speaks of understanding, two people shaken by the memories of their pasts, their present. A mutual unspoken agreement between them that yeah, they both had shit pasts, but that doesn’t mean that the trauma has to extend to their futures. If only it were that simple, if only they were brave enough. Callum can’t help but think that in that moment, something ethereal was joining them and they were one in the same, two halves of a broken soul.

Eventually, Ben coughs, a harsh sound that seems like it’s more to expel air from his lungs, remind them how to function, than in response to an actual need to cough. Just like that, the trance is broken, the silent voices hushed. Before Callum can feel him slip away Ben is distant again, and an emptiness grows in his chest. 

Ben stands abruptly, the scrape of the chair legs against the floor setting Callum’s teeth on edge and putting a definite end to whatever had just occurred between them. Drumming a jolly beat on the table and plastering a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes, Ben throws Callum a quick “places to be” before he turns and leaves, becoming just another body in the throng of people and leaving Callum stunned in his wake.

It’s mid-morning when Callum finally closes the door to his flat behind him, the bright pink walls and psychedelic flower wallpaper momentarily making his tired eyes burn. A hangover from the previous residents that could induce a migraine without the need for a drop of liquor. 

As he turns the corner into the living room the he is hit by the stench of stale fast food, the grey din from the overcast day outside filtering through the thin curtains, illuminating fast food rubbish and beer bottles littering his living room table and floor. The muted daylight also casts a pallid shadow on his brother, Stuart who is passed out face down on the sofa, snoring loudly dead to the world. He wonders how long Stuart has been laying there, how much rest he’s gotten. He’s had a hard time lately, with his fiancée Rainie leaving him for some other guy and being rejected by the daughter he abandoned when she was young when he tried to get into contact with her. Callum’s still not sure what Stuart was expecting with that one, but nevertheless, it hit him hard. And as always, Callum was there for him.

He loves his brother, of course he does. You don’t have the childhood they had without forming a rock-solid bond. But sometimes Callum doesn’t like who his brother is, knows that while he can try to forget, he can never forgive some of the things Stuart has done in the past. He thinks, not for the first time that if they weren’t brothers then Callum and Stuart wouldn’t be friends, he supposes that a lot of siblings think this about each other, especially when they are so different in age. It still leaves a dull ache in his chest, though. 

Callum ponders in what scenario he might have known his brother had they not been tied by blood. He tries to think of a life where Stuart might be a colleague, perhaps his partner who takes on a protective, older brother like role in his life anyway, guiding him through the long night shifts and sometimes devastating calls.

But he knows the truth, and no fantasy will let him skirt around it for long. Stuart would be the kind of guy that Callum would respond to on a call, drunk again having succumbed to his demons after trying to numb the pain of being alone in the world. Stumbling and confused after injuring himself in some way _again_ , possibly homeless, a frequent flyer in A&E and treats the ambulance like a caravan of sorts. The kind of guy that the crew are actually very fond of and are rooting for to do well, sort his life out and _live._ But inevitably is just down a hole so deep that he can’t get a foothold to get out of it and will eventually end up going the way the rest of his kind do, into an early grave, alone. Preventable.

Callum breathes, but it doesn’t do much to loosen the knot that’s tied itself in his chest, and realises his vision is blurred with tears. He cleans up the food rubbish and gently covers his brother with a blanket, resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get you there Stu, I promise.” Is all he says before his feet drag him to his room and he collapses into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also just wanted to add that I don't think paramedics are people that aren't smart enough to be doctors, that was just Ben being an arse- sorry! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enojyed.


	3. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Energy is not created or destroyed, but passed on, simply transferred to another being, another soul desperate for a connection, for another to make it whole. It feels absurd to think that this moment could be destroyed so quickly, forgotten about like last week’s headlines, but Callum knows that it won’t, can’t be forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is up! I had some fun writing this one so I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> tw: brief references to past violence/ abuse and homophobia

A few weeks had passed since what Callum had termed ‘muffingate’. He did this often, using a silly joke to quell the true significance behind an event. He still wasn’t sure what exactly that meeting with Ben had meant, their conversation -that Callum is _not_ calling a heart to heart- following the path of a rollercoaster, Ben approaching him with a caring gift, making sure Callum got something to eat after a long shift, to threatening him in the next breath. Them sharing closely guarded secrets of their pasts, Callum opening up in a way he hadn’t before, not even within the four walls of a therapy room. The whole ride capped off with a colossal, stomach turning horizontal drop of locked eyes and soundless dialogue. The long look they shared still entered Callum’s mind, barging indiscriminately into his stream of consciousness and his dreams, casting a casual _fuck you_ to his already fragile sleeping pattern. One thing that had become apparent though, is that Callum wants to see Ben again.

It hit him a week after they met, he was processing the paperwork from Phil’s call (he really needed to be more on top of that) and his eyes drifted to Ben’s phone number. He laughed at the memory of their conversation, Ben being an absolute dick, relishing in making Callum feel uncomfortable and succeeding at making him feel like a fish out of water. He can’t take the number, he can’t abuse the trust he has with his patients, with his colleagues, and even if he could, he wouldn’t do anything with it anyway. It didn’t take long to realise that Ben was a flirt, he would turn on his charm to anything with a pulse if it meant he could get what he wanted, and Callum was no different to anyone else. Ben has no interest in Callum, why would he? _But that look..._

He knows he needs to stop this, forget about Ben and find someone emotionally available and not a suspected criminal, but if he happens to have 11 digits running through his mind for the rest of the day, committed to memory by lunchtime, no one needs to know.

Despite his brain telling him to forget about Ben, he still finds himself scanning the streets as he and Lola drive around in the ambulance on shifts, a small twinge of hope sparking in his chest when they arrive at each call, hoping to be reunited with those blue eyes and that cocky smirk.

“Earth to Callum?” Lola is staring over at him from the driver’s seat while stopped at a red light, waving her hand in front of his face with an amused smile tugging at her lips. She had clearly been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Sorry, Lo” he apologises, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. “Was in a world of my own there.”

“I can see that” she giggles “wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain Ben Mitchell would it?” she gives him a knowing smile.

“What? Why would it?”

“You’ve been different since you met him, distant and tired all the time. I dunno, just thought he might be keeping you awake is all” she pokes at his ribs and he squirms, pretending it’s in reaction to her touch and not the truth in her words.

“Lo, he is some random guy’s son from a call we had weeks ago. Why would I be thinking about him?” He’s telling himself more than her, a _random guy’s son from a call we had weeks ago._ It’s true, but it doesn’t register as such in Callum’s brain. It needs to, it really really needs to. 

“Alright, sorry” she relents. “Probably a good thing anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, Jay’s a mate of Ben’s, they’re quite close actually. Says him and his dad do some dodgy stuff, probably best not to get caught up in all that.”

Callum hums, not giving anything away, not rising to Lola’s bait despite every fibre in his body screaming to know more, to hold Lola by the shoulders and shake her until she relinquishes everything she knows about Ben.

“Anyway, you excited?”

“About what?” Callum tenses, _what have I forgotten?_

“Your birthday, donut!”

Oh. That.

“Uh, yeah… yeah it will be a laugh.”

“Oh my god. You are such an old woman! Callum it’s your last birthday in your twenties” don’t _remind me_ “we’re gonna go out and get smashed and have an amazing night. And who knows,” she glances over to him “you might just meet your knight in shining armour.” ‘ _To distract you from Ben’_ goes unsaid.

“In a gay bar in East London? I don’t think I want to, to be honest.”

She laughs, a bright, joyful laugh that can only be Lola’s. “Fair point” she agrees.

Later that night Callum is standing outside the Prince Albert, hands tucked into the pockets of the jacket he’s glad he grabbed, the night being unseasonably cold for the time of year. Despite getting in a quick nap and Lola facetiming him to make sure he drank two espresso shots, he’s still tired after working the day shift, but the coffee helped, and he can start to feel the buzz.

He kicks the curb, waiting outside for his friends. Luckily Shirley had allowed Martin and Whitney to switch shifts with another crew, letting them celebrate with Callum. He’s grateful, and a bit relieved, not only are they a laugh, but he’s glad it won’t just be him and Lola. She means well but her matchmaking efforts are a bit much, especially when he just wants to have a fun night with his mates.

It’s his first time in a gay bar since coming out. He’d been in them briefly before and he tries to remind himself of this, that he’s done it before, but tonight feels different, and the nerves rising up his throat won’t let him forget it.

“What the-!“

He jumps out of his skin when he feels someone behind him, squeezing his sides.

“Callum mate!” he spins to see Martin, his hands still at Callum’s sides, a mischievous grin on his face that tells Callum he’s already had a few.

“Jesus Martin, you scared me half to death.” Martin pulls him in for a hug, evidently, he’s an affectionate drunk.

“Alright Martin, steady on. I know we’re at a gay bar but you don’t need to pounce on him.” Whitney giggles, carefully prying Martin from the bear hug he’s enveloped Callum in before leaning into to kiss Callum on the cheek in greeting.

“Happy birthday” Whitney smiles, before flinching as Martin commences a very loud chorus of happy birthday for Callum’s benefit, apparently.

“Wow, thanks mate. That was… great” Callum says with feigned enthusiam, rubbing his ear and hoping Martin hasn’t burst his eardrum. 

“Yeah it was really.. in tune” Whit looks half amused half fed up, clearly tired of having to protect the eternally fragile male ego. “Oh- heads up” she says, nodding her head behind Callum.

“Wha-“

“CALLUM” he freezes, and just when he’s about to turn around he feels Lola launching herself at his back, looping her arms around his neck.

“Why’s everyone attacking me tonight?” he laughs, catching Lola’s legs.

“At least you caught me” she laughs, pecking him on the cheek before sliding down to the floor.

“Well if he hadn’t we’d know how to fix ya up!” Whitney adds, stumbling slightly in her towering heels. Gallows humour. _Ha._

Callum catches sight of Lola and is momentarily dazzled by her outfit. He sees her in uniform most of the time, so its easy to forget how… eccentric Lola’s sense of style is. She’s wearing all kinds of neon colours, clashing, of course, and enough animal print for her to be mistaken for an escaped zoo animal, topped off with a pair of heeled wedge trainers. He thinks back to a few months ago, when Lola had changed after a shift and Martin told him that his toddler daughter dresses her barbies better than her. Callum loves Lola to bits, but he can’t help but see that Martin has a point, Trinny and Susannah she is not. But her smile is bright and she’s one of the best people Callum knows, and her bright clothes are so quintessentially _her_ that Callum loves them in all their garish glory. 

“Ooh! I love this song!” Martin shouts, swaying to a beat that does _not_ belong to the song he’s dancing to as the dulcet tones of Mr. Brightside trickle out through the opening door. _Probably the straightest song you’ll hear all night, mate._ “Can we go in?” the sight of a thirtysomething heterosexual married father plastered and begging to go into a gay bar in order to what Callum can only assume would be screaming along to an early 2000s classic shouldn’t be so funny, but Callum finds it _hilarious._

“Yeah, yeah. Lets go in, come on guys.” He orders, trying to bite back his laughter.

“No, wait.” Callum gives Lola a quizzical look, who shares a glance with Whitney. Callum’s stomach twists uncomfortably, and Martin has started talking to a lamppost.

“Why…what have you done?” he’s suspicious, worried Lola has done something, invited _someone._

“Nothing, its just- we might be waiting.. for someone else” she sounds like a child that’s been caught drawing on the walls, giving Callum puppy dog eyes.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

“Who?” his heart is racing, _she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She can’t have._

“Oi. Halfway!” He turns at the sound of his nickname, one only few people know these days. Strutting towards him is no other than Shirley Carter, dressed head to toe- well, mid-thigh- in black leather, cigarette between her lips, platinum blonde hair styled into lose spikes around her face and heeled boots in her trademark leather reaching over her knees. It’s been a long time since he’s seen her out of uniform, a sight he knows the others haven’t been privy to, and for a moment Callum feels like he’s watching The Matrix.

“Shirl, what you doing here?”

“Come to get drunk and watch you lot make a tit of yourselves.” So, it seems there wont be any problem with trying to act professional in front of the boss tonight. 

“Although by the looks of it I can go home already” she nods towards Martin, who has taken to staring intently at his reflection in a puddle, mumbling some kind of inspirational pep talk of which Callum only makes out “you beautiful bastard” and “receding hairline my arse”. God, if this is what drinking looks like in your thirties, Callum isn’t sure he wants to live that long.

“See that?” Shirley says, her arm around Callum’s shoulder, pointing to Martin, seemingly having read his mind, “That’s you in a few years” she cackles loudly in his ear. He gives Lola a look that says _thanks a lot_ before following Martin, who clearly has taken his confidence boost to heart, making a beeline for the bar.

“What? You never!” Callum sways as he props himself up on the bar, a few shots in and slightly the worse for wear. He doesn’t care, though, because he’s with his friends and he’s having fun, and he’s just been introduced to Shirley’s sister who was _not_ what he was expecting.

“Yeah! We’re sisters” Tina is the complete opposite to Shirley, covered in so much pink and yellow she could give Lola a run for her money, with her hair in bunches, sporting what Callum thinks are leg warmers. _Who the hell wears leg warmers anymore?_ At first, Callum thought it was some kind of uniform, but none of the other bar staff are dressed like her, so he realises this must just be Tina's style. 

"Nah, Nah sorry, you’re pulling my leg” he, declares taking another swig of his beer. 

“Halfway, how long have we known each other? You know I have a sister”

She’s right, he’s known Shirley for as long as he can remember, with Stuart and her son Mick being best mates as kids, but he still can’t get his head around the fact that these two women are related. “Yeah, but not her!”

“Why not me?” Tina crosses her arms, egging Callum on to do what Shirley wants, make a tit of himself.

“Well, Shirl is so.. you know. And you’re so… not” Callum gestures wildly, partly due to the alcohol and partly in the hope that it will excuse him from having to finish his sentences in front of his boss, his _very scary_ boss.

Tina and Shirley share a playful smile, they know exactly what he means, but they’re not letting him off that lightly.

“I’m so.. what exactly? Shirley asks, her lips twisted in a cruel smile, rounding on Callum, who is lost for words, desperately floundering for something to say.

He knows Shirley well, this is just what she does, teases and teases until her victim is left squirming when really, she’d kill for them. On a normal day Callum can just about take it, but right now his mind is swimming, and he can’t think of anything to say that will safely navigate him out of this one, so he tells the truth instead. “I need a wee” he blurts before he can stop himself. Shirley barks a laugh and shares a bemused look with Tina, before Callum legs it from the bar before they can see his ears turning red.

“Whit? What you looking at?” Callum has found her on his way back from the toilets, fixed to the spot and swaying slightly. She nods forwards with a grunt, gaping her mouth around to find her straw, clearly too transfixed -or too drunk- by whatever she’s seeing to focus on what she’s doing.

“Is she _flirting_?” he looks over to see Shirley sat at the bar, leaning in close to a man a fair bit younger than her, her hand on his chest, and despite wanting to look anywhere but there, he finds himself as transfixed as Whitney.

“Yeah, don’t think she’s paid for a drink all night the dark horse” Whitney shakes her head in awe.

“I don’t think I wanna see this” he predicts, just before Shirley shoves her tongue down the guy’s throat.

“Oh god, my eyes! Run Callum, save yourself!” she grabs his hand and they hurry to join the others on the dancefloor, slightly horrified and very grossed out.

Shirley leaves not long after, claiming she has work the next day. She got her wish though, after crying with laughter at Martin dancing to Britney Spears’ Toxic on the pole, really embracing the character and giving it his all. Callum wasn’t sure where to look, and Whit and Lola were videoing him on their phones, the audio being littered by their uncontrollable laughter. Martin is never going to live this night down.

It’s almost one in the morning when Callum finds himself sat alone in a booth, Lola and Whitney having the time of their lives on the dancefloor, Martin off to the side, head in his hands and looking to be regretting all of his life’s decisions. He looks around the room, rainbow lights making patterns on his face, and takes a breath. He’s here, as a gay man and its ok.

Despite coming out nearly a year ago he hasn’t been with a man since. It was hard, _really_ hard. When you’ve been taught your whole life that being a certain way is wrong, loving who your heart is yearning to love is wrong, _dirty_ it takes time to unlearn that. His dad was utterly horrible, responding the only way he knew how- with his fists. It took Callum back to being a helpless child, at the mercy of his father’s volatile temper.

But it wasn’t only Callum that had to retrain his mind, Stuart also had to unlearn the prejudices of their father. While it hurt Callum to see how much Stuart was struggling to accept him, he knew he was trying, and that was enough, it had to be. So, Callum took some time to recover, let his brother get to grips with it all, and that meant a lot of lonely nights.

It’s not that anyone really took his fancy either, Callum has never been one to play the field, and that wasn’t going to suddenly change now that he was out. No, no one has caught his attention, until….

Before, there was Chris, beautiful _beautiful_ Chris who made Callum’s heart sing. He was good and kind and made everything alright. But Callum was naïve and scared and so far in the closet he could see Narnia, so he put his affection for Chris down to friendship, the comradery you’re always told you’ll find in the army.

He shakes his head to try to clear his fogged brain and misting eyes. He can’t think of Chris right now, the brilliant young man with so much ahead of him, who braved the horrors of war only to be killed in a car accident while on leave. _If only I was there, if only I had saved him._

Callum thought it was a good thing when he felt himself start to sober up 10 minutes ago, decided not to drink any more to try and save himself some pain tomorrow, but now he sees that was a mistake. With a sobering mind comes sober thoughts, and they are not something he wants to deal with tonight. He downs the shot on the table in front of him and moves to join Lola and Whitney on the dancefloor, clapping Martin on the shoulder as he goes.

He’s another shot down and very sweaty after his high energy rendition of ABBA’s Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie when it happens. When his eyes lock onto the sight he’s been chasing for weeks. He sees Lola touch his arm but doesn’t feel it, his body numb to everything except the sight before him, deaf to anything but his heartbeat in his ears. He brushes her arm off wordlessly, and takes strong, decisive strides towards the bar, towards Ben.

“Hi” his voice is rough with alcohol and desire.

“Hi yourself” Ben smirks, dragging his eyes up and down Callum’s body in a way that’s reminiscent of the time in the hospital car park, but so, _so_ different.

“What you having?” Ben asks, nodding towards the bartender.

“No, no I’m good thanks.” For a split second a look of dejection flits across Ben’s face, and Callum panics.

 _Don’t fuck this up_.

“Not like that I just.. I’ve had enough.”

“You’re still standing, that ain’t enough in my book”

“It is in mine. Like to keep a clear head”

“Whatever for? What decisions are you planning on making tonight, Callum” he steps closer, and Callum catches the scent of his cologne. It’s woody and heady and undoubtably expensive, and it makes Callum’s head spin.

“What you doing here anyway? Ain’t you meant to be planning my murder or something?”

“My mum owns the place. Dad’s a homophobe so mum tried to overcompensate by opening a fucking gay bar.” He chuckles “still, when life gives you lemons… you get off with loads of guys in your mum’s bar.” Ben barks out a laugh, but there’s a sorrow in his eyes, a pain that Callum wants to talk to him about, thinks he knows in the same way Ben does. But he doesn’t ask, because that’s not what tonight is for.

“Seriously though, you threaten me then nothing?”

“Maybe you’ve been behaving yourself” Ben quirks an eyebrow, looking up at Callum through his eyelashes and something stirs deep within the taller man.

“Wouldn’t you like to know” Callum doesn’t know where his reply came from, where he had hidden away the confidence to fire such a cocky response, but it had been there, somewhere, and Ben seemed to be loving it. “I- I just would have thought you’d be more on top of it to be honest.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t” he whispers, reaching forward and fiddling with the buttons on Callum’s shirt, his fingers brushing against Callum’s chest through the thin fabric that suddenly feels thicker than a suit of armour. The stirring Callum felt before has whipped itself up into a full-blown tornado and he can’t _breathe._

Before he knows it, they’re in the toilets, watching each other with hungry eyes, only seeing the man in front of them because nothing else matters, nothing else _exists._ Callum directs them into a stall and Ben backs him up against the wall, sending every hair on Callum’s body on end.

“You know, I like me a man in uniform, but seeing your arse in those jeans… I can’t lie, it’s a spiritual experience.” Ben’s voice is husky in Callum’s ear, lips brushing against skin with every syllable.

Callum laughs, his lungs burning, and if anyone asked, he’d blame the vodka that is currently coursing through his veins for him edging closer to Ben, sharing his space without fear or second guessing himself. But no one would ask, because why would they? He’s gay. With another gay man in the toilets of a gay bar and its normal and its ok and its _everything._ No one will question him, not here, and he won’t let them if they did, not anymore.

The logical part of Callum’s brain is screaming, telling him that this isn’t him, that he’s not one for toilet hookups. But right now, he doesn’t care because until 20 minutes ago Callum hadn’t seen Ben in weeks, and he’s desperate for this, desperate for him. He could ask Ben to go somewhere else, somewhere more private, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, risk Ben changing his mind when he’s given time to remember he could have any bloke he wants. Callum’s also not sure he’s ready for whatever going _somewhere else_ implies just yet, and he doesn’t want Ben to laugh at him, judge him for trying to make a one-time thing something more, something with meaning. He also doesn’t want Ben to think that he’s judging him for this being his normal, so he breathes, breathes in Ben’s sent, swallows his nerves and zones out from the rest of the world, leaving just him and Ben and nothing and no one else. Callum wants this, _needs_ Ben, so we will take him, anyhow and anywhere he can.

He takes another deep breath, dropping his eyes to Ben’s lips as the younger man’s tongue nips out, wetting his bottom lip before biting it, an invitation, a _dare_. Its too much and not enough at the same time; Ben’s eyes in their brilliant blue, alive and electric and _wild_ , staring up at Callum with an intensity he’s never been the focus of before. The smell of whisky and smoke and sweat mixing into the ever-shrinking space between them, the pounding of the base from the next room reverberating through Callum’s feet, conducting through his body and shaking his bones. Replacing his heartbeat with a rhythmic rumble.

Ben edges closer, closer, _closer._ And Callum can’t think.

He raises his hand to Callum’s face, brushes his fingers over his cheek, across his eyebrow and _fuck_ he’s never felt this before. How can a touch so featherlight, so _tender_ ignite such a roaring fire deep within Callum’s being?

Ben continues following the contours of Callum’s face, who both can’t breathe and is panting simultaneously, filling the inches, _centimetres_ between them with longing, desire, _heat_. Ben’s finger traces down the bridge of his nose, the tip, sliding down his cupid’s bow and catching on his bottom lip, gently pulling it down, opening his mouth.

He’s never felt so possessed by a feeling, an electric current pulsing through his body that he’s so powerless to, yet he’s so in control. Callum has been confronted by his own mortality on many occasions throughout his life, he witnesses death almost every day in his job, the many nights in the army where he would lay awake not knowing what the next day would bring, if it would be his last. That one really bad beating his dad gave him when he became too friendly with one of his male classmates, where Callum thought death would probably be the most merciful outcome for him. Despite all that, despite him being so crudely confronted by death numerous times, it has always scared him, terrified him to be here one minute and gone the next. But here, with Ben looking at him like this, his fingers pressing into his flesh, trickling down his lips, his jaw, his throat, he thinks he could die tomorrow a happy man. 

He’s so close he can almost feel the ghost of ben’s lips against his and he’s ready. He’s taking this moment, because it’s his and he _wants_ it and he wants Ben, _and Ben wants him,_ and no one can take that from him.

No one, except Martin, banging on the door “Callum mate, you in here?” And just like that, Callum short circuits. Energy is not created or destroyed, but passed on, simply transferred to another being, another soul desperate for a connection, for another to make it whole. It feels absurd to think that this moment could be destroyed so quickly, forgotten about like last week’s headlines, but Callum knows that it won’t, _can’t_ be forgotten, and if the gravelly “fuck” that escaped deep from Ben’s throat when they were interrupted has anything to go by, so does he.

Energy can’t be destroyed, and Callum hopes that whoever inherits theirs has much better luck tonight than him. 

Martin stumbles into the cubicle, crashing between them, forcing them apart, the absence of Ben’s body against his making Callum feel cold and empty, bereft. Martin falls on his hands and knees before vomiting, violently, into the toilet. It feels like forever before he’s finished, the eternity stretching on when Ben refuses to look Callum in the eye, clearly no longer entranced. After, Martin rocks back onto his feet, he looks up at them, sheepish. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”

There’s silence for a beat, two. Ben’s hands form tight fists at his sides, and Callum can’t believe how quickly he’s changed, how only moments ago those fingers were tenderly caressing his face, now they are digging crescent shaped dips into Ben’s palms. His jaw set, looking like it was taking an enormous amount of restraint not to throttle Martin, not to drown him in a toilet full of his own sick. 

But wasn’t that always there? The gentle touches preceding the firm grip on Callum’s throat, the soft words paired with eyes dark with ruthless lust. Ben was always on a knife edge, always one miniscule incident from tipping over, love or hate, calm or chaos, sincerity or violence.

Isn’t that what Callum finds so endearing? So _addictive_ about Ben. Isn’t that what draws him in and keeps him there, keeps him on tenterhooks, wanting, _needing_ more.

“Nah, nah mate you’re good” Callum croaks out the lie, and Ben looks away. “Come on, let’s get you up.” He hoists Martin up and settles him by the sink where he rinses his mouth out. “You feeling better or do you think there’s more to come?” Callum asks, brining his hands to his friend’s shoulders.

“Nah, I’m good. Feeling a lot better now thanks.” He burps, and for a moment Callum thinks he might throw up again, but he doesn’t, just places his head in his hands before adding, “mate, I’m so sorry, I ruined your birthday.”

At that, Ben, who had been watching Callum with a guarded expression, finally looks him in the eye for the first time since Martin’s interruption. He eyes are wide, pupils still blown with desire and he’s looking at Callum with a yet another expression he can’t quite place. Pity? Sympathy? Either way, if it’s one of those Callum doesn’t want it.

“Don’t be silly, it’s nothing. Let’s get you home, get some electrolytes down ya” He shifts back to Martin, patting him on the shoulder.

“God, Stace is gonna kill me” Martin whines, hands dragging down his face.

Ben mutters something under his breath that Callum doesn’t quite catch but sounds suspiciously like ‘she needs to get in line’.

Giving Ben a sideways glance, Callum helps Martin to his feet. “I guess I’ll see you, then”

“If ya lucky” his tone is brisk, flippant. He’s gone again, they may only be standing perhaps a metre apart, but Ben is miles away. “Good luck with the missus” he claps Martin on the back _a bit too hard_ and leaves the bathroom, not sparing so much as a backwards glance at Callum.

“Lo, Whit!” Callum has finally made it back to the dancefloor, having half dragged Martin out from the toilets. He’s slightly taller than Callum and unsteady on his feet, making transporting him a difficult task, so the sight of his friends is a relief.

“There you are! Oh god, what’s happened to you?” Whit only gets a grunt in response from Martin, who seems to have taken a turn from the journey.

“He’s had a bit too much, ain’t ya? I’m gonna take him home, make sure he gets there alright.”

“And that Stacey don’t kill him” Lola adds.

“We’ll come with you, my feet are killing me anyway.” Whit adds, placing her drink on a nearby table with finality.

“You sure?” His friends nod to confirm “ok, thanks, can you guys just hold him a sec while I go get my jacket from the table?”

He'd just picked up his jacket and was turning to the bar to give Tina a wave goodbye when his eyes catch sight of something else, something that makes his stomach lurch and the dim lights in the bar feel sickeningly bright.

He sees Ben at the bar, kissing the face of some random guy like his life depended on it. For a split second, Ben’s eyes open, and they lock on Callum’s before he closes them again, and continues his kiss with even more ferocity than before. Callum swallows down his hurt, the anger bubbling in his stomach, the bile in his throat, the _embarrassment._ He swallows down the smell of Ben that was so close he could almost taste it, and moves to join his friends, hoping he never has to see Ben Mitchell again.


	4. Diamonds in the Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As angry and hurt as Callum is, as much as he wants to walk out and never turn back, he knows he’s been caught. Ben knows something, and until Callum knows exactly what, and what Ben is planning to do with said knowledge, he can’t go anywhere. He’s back at Ben’s mercy, powerless against him. Just like in the Albert, Just like always, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is finally up! It hasn't been that long since I updated in reality but I feel like I've been working on this chapter for an age. Work being busy and a bit of writer's block made this one a bit painful I won't lie, but plot wise it's an important one and I'm already excited for the next chapter, it's coming along nicely so far.
> 
> I also wanted to say a huge thank you for the kudos and comments so far, I'm loving hearing your reactions and it's so encouraging to get feedback, so thanks for that :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy
> 
> tw: mention of someone being beaten up and past violence/ abuse.

Three weeks had passed since Callum’s birthday. Since he had nearly got everything he’s wanted for as long as he can remember in the toilet of a bar with a man he can’t seem to get out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. It feels so silly, him still being so hung up on a guy who clearly doesn’t want him, thinks of him as nothing more as a pawn to play his games with. He thinks of Ben’s face kissing that guy, how determined his eyes were when they made contact with Callum’s, contrastingly cold for the intimate moment and it makes his stomach twist in anger. But there’s something else too, an ache in his chest when he remembers how Ben’s breath felt on his skin, how up close his eyes had golden flecks in them. He had vowed that night that he never wanted to see Ben again, but with each passing day Callum feels his resolve slip away a little more. 

Life had gone back to normal, or at least the new normal he's found himself in since Ben entered his life. He’d heard nothing from Ben, threatening or otherwise, and he had successfully begged Martin not to tell Lola and the others about him walking in on them. The incessant teasing of Martin had also calmed down a lot. After Lola and Whit put a mirror in his locker with a drawn on fuller hairline and printed screengrabs of his pole _routine_ , Shirley had told them enough was enough, albeit with a not so well concealed smile on her face.

Work had also continued as normal, with him and Lola responding to calls around the clock. RTCs, drunken accidents, cardiac arrests and an influx of callouts to COPD patients were keeping them very busy. It was a blessing in disguise, them being so rushed off their feet meant that by the time Callum got home after each shift he fell asleep almost instantly, not having to mull over the events of the last twelve hours, or have time to think about Ben.

He’s walking through A&E at the end of a very long shift when he hears Lola giggling through the curtain dividers. He pokes his head around a gap in the curtain to see her hanging off the arm of a tall, lanky ginger guy with green eyes who he presumes to be her boyfriend, Jay. He’s about to smile, walk in and introduce himself, when his gaze drifts to the bed and he falters. His entire body runs cold at the sight of Ben, sat up in bed, wires and drips attached, purple bruises and deep crimson cuts littering his face. His bottom lip is swollen and bruising stretches around his left eye and from the awkward way he shifts Callum suspects he has injured his ribs too. And he’s looking at Callum like he’s the last person he wants to see.

Callum can only hope his face is saying the same thing.

As hard as he tries, as much as seeing Ben again fills him with rage, Callum can’t look away, can’t tear his eyes away from Ben, scanning his face for answers. _Who did this? Why? Are you ok? What can I do?_

“Callum! You can finally meet Jay” Lola is grabbing at Callum’s arm, apparently oblivious, or perhaps ignoring his current stupefied state. When he finally turns to face her a nervous smile tugs at her lips. He wants to do this, he wants to be happy for her and embrace Jay the way she wants him to, be the Callum Highway his patients see, but he can still feel Ben’s eyes on him and it burns.

Callum’s heart is in his throat, going a mile a minute and all he wants is for the ground to swallow him up. But he knows that him meeting Jay is a big deal for Lola, he knows that Jay means a lot to her and that she has never been happier than she is with him, so he plasters a smile on his face and reaches to shake Jay’s hand.

“Jay Brown.”

“Callum Highway. Nice to finally meet ya”

“You too, I’ve heard a lot” Callum shoots Lola a bashful smile, and she beams at him.

“All good I hope” he jokes, feeling some of the nervous energy slip away.

“Absolutely” Jay shares a look with Ben that Callum can’t decipher but knows instantly he wasn’t meant to see. _Well, the nerves are back._

“Yeah, Callum’s a gem, isn’t he?” Ben quips, a glint in his eye that makes Callum even more uncomfortable, his tone harsh and clearly mocking.

“Yeah, he is actually. Saved your dad’s life, didn’t he? Him and so many others” Lola sneers, coming to Callum’s defence immediately and it makes him stand a little taller.

“Lo, its fine” he says, touching her arm and giving her a small smile that he hopes is reassuring. Callum can’t help but feel that excluding Jay, of all the people in this tiny room somehow he knows the least about himself, and he needs to do everything in his power to make sure that his two secret keepers aren’t about to come to blows.

“Ah see, Mr pacifist. A real diamond in the rough” he looks an affronted Lola up and down, making no secret that he was referring to her as the rough.

_Gem. Diamond._

“Hey, there’s no need for that.” Callum snaps, firmer than he should sound in front of Lola and Jay. But he did snap, because he’s right, there was no need for what Ben did to him.

Memories of that night swirl in his mind in every spare moment he has, he wasn’t expecting to see Ben at the Albert that night, but when he did, he became a live wire. Ben was flirting with him like crazy, looking at him like he actually wanted _Callum_ , not just any warm-blooded animal he could get his hands on. He still can’t forget the visceral _fuck_ that came from Ben when Martin interrupted them, he hears it in the moments before he falls asleep, like a lullaby, sending him off into a dreamland where Ben is all his and he is all Ben’s.

But that’s not reality, and in the real-world Ben is a colossal dickhead.

“See that? Coming to your defence? _Diamond._ Although, I’ve heard rubies are more valuable. What do you think Callum? I know you’re a bit of an _expert_ on the subject”

Its calm, conversational, _careless_ and it makes all the warmth drain from Callum’s body. The question is innocent, to anyone else’s ears sounding like Ben had just got the wrong end of the stick or was concussed from his beating. But Callum can see it, the glint in his eyes, the way his lips quirk up at the edges, how his right eye narrows for a split second, he _knows._

_How the fuck does he know? It was years ago. Stay calm, wait until you’re alone and then you can lose your shit._

“What are you talking about?” Lola sounds annoyed, _good._ Hopefully it will mean she didn’t take in Ben’s words.

“I think you’ve got me confused with someone else” Callum interjects, laughing to cover the way his voice shakes, to drown out his thumping heart that fills his ears.

“My mistake” Ben relents, his stare trained on Callum, hands up in surrender. _For now._

The silence that follows is possibly the most uncomfortable one Callum has experienced. Lola is gaping at him like she has no idea what’s going on, but she’s pissed about it and all he can offer back is a shrug and shake of his head, pretending to be as oblivious as she is. Jay is staring at Ben as if trying to read him, do the impossible; predict what Ben will do next. Ben, however, is watching Callum closely with a shit eating grin on his face, the bastard is absolutely _loving_ this. 

“Ben, I think we should get you home.“ Jay says, the hardness in his tone giving away the fact that he clearly doesn’t like whatever conclusion his scrutiny of Ben has led him to.

“Jay, be a lamb and go get me a tea, would ya?” Ben chirps, completely ignoring Jay's suggestion, his eyes still locked on Callum. Jay leaves with a sigh of defeat and a warning look at Ben, Lola trailing after him after shooting Callum one of their looks, leaving Ben and Callum alone, which, Callum is sure, was exactly what Ben wanted.

They both stay stock still, neither wanting to make the first move in an ironic contrast to the last time they were alone together, both of them equally overwhelmed by their need to touch, frenzied breaths filling the ever shrinking air between them as they tried to close the gap. Ben has resumed watching Callum with _that_ smile, the one that makes Callum’s palms clammy and blood boil.

As angry and hurt as Callum is, as much as he wants to walk out and never turn back, he knows he’s been caught. Ben knows something, and until Callum knows exactly what, and what Ben is planning to do with said knowledge, he can’t go anywhere. He’s back at Ben’s mercy, powerless against him. Just like in the Albert, Just like always, really.

“I need to go” Callum announces, his mouth contradicting his brain yet again.

“Oh, do stay”

“Got stuff to do”

“What stuff?”

“Paperwork”

“Again? Come on Callum, at least shake up your excuses a bit. Variety is the spice of life and all that.”

Callum sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. He takes another breath, hoping it will help quell the storm of nerves rising within him.

“Why did you get off with that bloke?”

_Where did that come from?_

“What bloke”

“You know what bloke”

“Like I said, variety is the spice of life”

“You’re an arsehole”

“So I’ve been told” A harsh sound escapes Callum’s throat that burns on its way out. It’s not quite a laugh and not quite a gasp, so it fits.

He looks at the man in front of him, really looks, hoping to find an answer to how something that meant so much to Callum could be so inconsequential to Ben. How Ben, who once looked at him with desire and affection and _understanding_ was now using his gaze as a weapon, breaking Callum open with his callous stare, taunting him with the promise of what he knows.

Callum feels open, exposed, unable to hide the hurt he’s feeling and hating himself for giving Ben the satisfaction. Of course he doesn’t care, of course it meant nothing. Callum already knew this, knew he wasn’t special, knew Ben’s game; find a warm body for a night and leave them cold and empty in the morning. He knew this, and yet he still fell for it. He hates himself for it, after waiting so long after coming out, taking his time to find the right guy, only to fall at the feet of Ben Mitchell.

Although, if he’s really honest with himself it was never a choice, him and Ben had felt like an inevitability form the start. The realisation hits him hard, and suddenly he needs to be as far away from Ben as possible but despite everything his legs won’t move. He sees the words form on Ben’s lips but he doesn’t hear them, He needs to know.

“Well, now all that’s out of the way there’s the small matter of some blackmail on the agenda-“

“What happened to you?” his voice shakes as he cuts Ben off. He’s trying to sound calm, to hide the concern and sincerity that he wishes so much wasn’t there. He doesn’t want to, but he needs to ask, to get the answer to the question that's been on his tongue since he laid eyes on Ben ten minutes ago.

“You know, just my dad.” Ben sighs “teaching me another lesson. Seems I’m a slow learner in his books, but I’m sure you get it.” He winks, always on, always hounding. His words unleash another attack on Callum’s feelings, he _does_ know. The fear of never knowing what to expect when his dad walked in the door, not knowing what to say or do to in order to best to protect himself, the resignation that it will happen and the cuts will heal only for it to happen again and again and again. There’s also an anger that flares in him, one that grows as Callum remembers how he broke the unspoken promise between Stuart and himself to keep the horrors of their childhood between themselves, private, protected where no one can judge or pity them. How he broke that trust for _Ben Mitchell_ of all people.

“Why’d he beat you up?” He swallows hard, some part of his brain seemingly determined to keep this going.

“We both know he doesn’t need a reason. But this time he did think he had one which makes a change.” He eyes up Callum, awkwardly sitting up higher in the bed, “you see, the police have been sniffing around, something about a robbery about 6 weeks ago. They seem to think me and my dad had something to do with it. I wonder where they might have got that idea?”

“You think I went to the police? I didn’t, I ain’t that stupid. The second I handed you and your dad over to the doctors that was it, I was done with you.” The lie spills from his lips easily, and for a moment Callum believes it, hopeful, deluded.

“Well, we both know that’s not exactly true now, is it birthday boy?” he winks with the audacity that only he has, using that night against Callum. “Lucky for me, the robbery was the day you and blondie came to daddy’s rescue, as you both _love_ to keep reminding me.”

“So..?”

“So, we have ourselves an alibi.”

“What do you mean?”

“ _I mean_ , I want you to lie and tell them you and Lola were with me and my dad at the time of the robbery” he says it so casually that Callum almost misses the severity of what he’s asking. He wants Callum to lie to the police.

“But we weren’t”

“Hence the lie” Ben speaks slowly, mocking Callum's slow comprehension. 

“I can’t do that”

“What’s his name?” Ben asks conversationally, throwing Callum completely.

“Who?”

“Your high horse”

“Fucking hell” Callum laughs in disbelief, because honestly, it’s all that’s stopping him from crying right now.

“Oops, that’s a quid in the swear jar”

“It’s called integrity, Ben”

“Integ-“ the rest of the word is cut off by Ben’s laugh, he claps his hands loudly, snapping Callum out of the trance of watching the way Ben’s throat moves as he laughs. “Now that is a good one. Tell me Callum, how much _integrity_ did you have when you were pulling off your little Italian Job a few years ago?”

Oh fuck.

“I don’t know what you mean”

“Oh, I think you do." Callum didn't know that nodding could be so patronising, he was wrong. "I wonder, can you be in the Ambulance Service with unspent criminal convictions?” He asks in an overdramatic questioning voice.

“Ben”

“ _Callum_ ” a sneer settles on Ben’s lips, mocking, egging him on. Callum can’t win this one, so he’s just going to have to try and keep his head above water.

“I- I didn’t do nothing, just a driver” he stammers, his hand bunched into a fist in his pocket.

“Right. Well I have some _very_ incriminating pictures that say otherwise.” Callum doesn’t flinch, defiant, stoic, _paralysed_. “Look, Callum, you’re a nice guy, pretty face, above average arse. But if you don’t do what I say, soon, then I will tell everyone what you did and your perfect little world will come crashing down around you. Capiche?”

“Ben, I’ll lose my job. My friends, everything.” Ben pouts in response, fucking _pouts._ Callum massages his temples in an attempt to calm the anger boiling in him, to busy his hands so he doesn’t add a bruise of his own to Ben’s face. Ben clearly doesn’t give a shit, and you can’t bargain with someone who doesn’t give a shit. He has to play Ben’s game, do what he says until Ben is happy, then he can move on, forget about Ben for good. “When was the robbery” he sighs.

Ben smiles and it’s sinful. “4 in the morning. Apparently” he answers with a wide-eyed look of feigned innocence.

“Jesus, you could at least pretend you didn’t do it.”

“What’s the point in that?”

“We didn’t get to you until nearly 6, and we got there 6 minutes after the call. The timings don’t work, so no alibi from me, sorry.”

“You’re very confident for a bloke without a leg to stand on. Anyway, that’s a technicality.”

“No, it’s fact. It’s written in the notes, which have been filed and can’t be changed. Plus, you did it, so I’m not lying for you. I don’t owe you nothing.” He thinks back to the bar, how he was practically laid bare for Ben, he would have done anything in that moment, ruled by a connection so strong he had no choice but to surrender to it. But Ben clearly didn’t feel the same and used it to his advantage to hurt Callum, discard him like a piece of shit on his shoe. So no, Callum didn’t owe this man a single thing.

“Change them then” Ben shrugs like it’s the obvious choice.

“I can’t do that! That is against everything I stand for; I don’t even know if it’s legal.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you before.”

“I was in a bad place Ben, a really bad place. I was just out the army and had nothing. I was desperate, but that ain’t me, I ain’t like-“

“What? Like me?” Ben retorts, his face hard, challenging.

 _That. I ain’t like that_ is what he was going to say.

Ben stares at him, and all Callum can do is stare back. No words enter his mind, no thought can be formulated when Ben is searching him like this, has strolled right into his mind and made himself at home, looking harder than anyone else has ever cared to, looking for _Callum_.

A soft smile spreads across Ben’s lips, one that makes Callum grateful he’s not the one hooked up to a heart monitor. “No, you’re not like me.”

“I- I should go” he croaks out, but Ben places his hand on Callum’s and _fuck, when did I move so close to him?_ The touch sends shockwaves through Callum’s body, he feels almost crushed under the weight of them, his knees buckling until-

“Callum-“it’s barely a whisper, but its so gentle, so genuine that it brings Callum back down to Earth. They stay like that, frozen in time, Ben’s thumb rubbing over Callum’s knuckles just once, the movement so subtle, so miniscule that anyone looking would miss it, but Callum didn’t.

Ben’s phone buzzes loudly on the bed side cabinet, shaking them both out of their trance. Ben reaches for it quickly, clearing his throat, and Callum just manages to read that the message is from Phil. As if on cue, Ben tenses, his body no longer his own. He briefly looks anguished as he reads the message, before his face hardens once again, mask firmly back in place. 

“Look” he clears his throat again, trying to cover how hoarse he sounds “just lie to the police if they ask and change the notes. Or I’ll tell everyone about your little foray into jewellery heists. Simple.” Callum releases a shaking breath, moving away from Ben. The younger man watching him closely as he retreats as if trying to mentally measure the distance Callum has put between them. “And if you don’t, I will make sure that your mate Bill’s kids get a very special present soon. Got it?”

Callum doesn’t have time to answer, to process Ben’s change other than to not be surprised by it, because at that moment a nurse comes in, giving Callum a polite smile.

“Right, let’s get you discharged” She says, busying herself with unhooking Ben from the machines. Callum uses the distraction to leave, not looking back when he hears Ben call his name.

The next few days pass in a blur of night shifts, Ambulance Station banter and Callum performing army grade evasive manoeuvres in response to Lola’s endless questions about Ben. It’s knackering, and with the constant worry of what Ben might do next, Callum feels his patience wearing thin, but there’s also the little voice in his head telling him to savour this, treasure every second spent with his friends doing the job he loves because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to do it. Not long, he predicts, if Ben sticks to his word.

There’s another voice, telling him that he’s not alone, that just because he can’t see Ben it doesn’t mean he’s not there. He feels like someone is watching him. He first felt it the day after he saw Ben after his beating, the feeling that there were eyes on him from the moment he left the Ambulance Station to when he closed his front door, drawing the curtains in his flat for good measure. _It’s just a bit of paranoia, not like you’ve been blackmailed before, is it?_ For the first time in his life, that night he was grateful for Stuart’s loud snoring filtering into his room, filling the deafening silence and soothing him to sleep. 

He’s on a break when he finds himself pacing outside Shirley’s office, thankfully the others are busy getting the latest low down on Whitney’s love life, so Callum was able to slip away unnoticed. After what feels like an age, he finally reaches forward and turns the door handle, stepping inside. He’s stood in front of the filling cabinet, one metal drawer away from the notes of Phil’s call, one pen stroke away from doing what Ben wants, from freedom, from breaking everything he’s spent years to build.

His feet are rooted to the floor beneath him, unable to take the small step forward that feels like hurtling back in time to a place where he was under the thumb of a different monster. His hand finds the drawer handle, a static shock surging through his body when he makes contact with the cold metal, an omen, a warning.

“Halfway?” His body jerks, hand flying back his side. _Fuck._

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and he’s stood like a deer caught in headlights, wordless, defenceless.

“What are you doing in here?” Shirley questions, she sounds more surprised than suspicious, _for now._

“Uh. Erm.. nothing. Just wanted a word about something but it’s clearly a bad time so-“ he mumbles, setting his course to leave the room.

“It’s not a bad time. Always got time for you” she winks, sitting at her desk and motioning for Callum to do the same. He stays standing.

“Callum..” she _never_ calls him by his name. “What’s going on with you?" She raises her hand to silence him when he opens his mouth to argue that he's fine. "You can palm me off as much as you want but I know you, and this ain’t it. We’re all worried about ya, Lola won’t shut up about how worried she is. You can talk to me, you know.”

Oh god, he knows Shirley cares, she’s got all of the crew’s back and Callum’s even moreso with their history, but she shows her affection for them by teasing, making jokes at their expense in loving mockery. Not this, not talking with her voice laced with concern.

“It’s nothing, honestly. Just uh…. Stuart is having a bit of a tough time at the moment; I’m just worried about him is all” Shirley looks at him, eyes narrowed, she doesn’t buy it.

“I’m here for you, you’re like family Callum.” _Not again._ His stomach twists at his name and he wants to be anywhere but here. “If there’s anything you need, _anything”_ she glances at the filling cabinet “I’m here.”

“That’s a bit risky, isn’t it?” He says before he can stop himself.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t know what you’re volunteering yourself for.”

_Stop talking, idiot._

She lets out a soft chuckle “Halfway, we both know I ain’t no saint, been round the block more times than Ian Beale’s had wives” Callum gives a small smile. Suddenly Shirley shifts, capturing Callum’s eyes with her own and the air feels too thick to swallow. “But I also know you, and I know that you love this job, and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that unless you absolutely had to” she looks back at the cabinet, lingering for a second, two, before giving Callum a pointed look.

“So, is there anything you want to tell me?” she adds when Callum stays silent.

Callum blinks, at a loss for what to say. He looks at Shirley, concern evident on her face and takes a breath. This woman is the closest thing he has to a mother, she can help him, protect him, she _wants_ to. He opens his mouth only to be cut off by his walkie talkie buzzing at his hip, alerting him to his next call. He responds, giving Shirley a curt nod before leaving on shaking legs that carry him to the bathroom. He wants to be sick, unload some of the nerves, release the pressure that’s been building in him for weeks, but it doesn’t come, _you can’t even do that right._ He gives up, running to meet Lola at the ambulance, blue lights on, ready for action.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been quiet all shift.” Lola sounds concerned, but there’s a hint of coldness in her question.

There it is. He knew he’d only get away with giving Lola the cold shoulder for so long, he’s surprised he’s gotten away with it for a whole shift.

“Nothing.”

“Callum come on. If you think I can’t see right through you you’ve got another thing coming” she scoffs, because apparently she knows _everything_ about him.

“Just leave it, Lola. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go running off to Shirley telling her you’re worried about me.” He swipes, still agitated at her going over his head.

“First of all, don’t call me Lola, it sounds weird coming from you.” Her voice is loud and harsh, and Callum regrets being so direct. “Second, I _am_ worried about you. There’s clearly something going on with you and you won’t talk to me about it. I know you and Shirley go way back so I thought you might speak to her, trust her because cleary you don’t trust me!” She has tears in her eyes as she storms off, leaving Callum alone in the Ambulance Station wondering how one call, one person led to all this.

That night Callum is feeling considerably lighter after spending the night in with Stuart, who despite Callum being distant recently, seems to be doing a little better. Seeing that alone puts Callum in a brighter mood, although guilt tugs at him at the realisation that he hasn’t done anything to help Stuart, who took so many punches as a kid to save Callum from the same fate. He wasn’t entirely successful, of course, but Callum will never forget the lengths he went to to protect his little brother.

“This has been nice, bruv. I feel like a barely see you these days” Stuart says, reaching for the last and by now stone-cold piece of pizza. “Do you mind?” Callum shakes his head.

“Yeah, sorry. Shift work is a real social life killer” he jokes, trying to keep the heaviness from his heart for a little longer.

“I know, but I live with you” Stuart mumbles sadly.

“I am sorry, Stu. I’ll try and be around more, promise.” Stuart smiles brightly, and Callum can’t help but return it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I really needed this tonight, some quality time with my big bro” he laughs, poking Stuart in the ribs.

“Me too. Anyway, I’m gonna hit the hay” Stuart rises, making his way to him room.

“Stu?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing so much better, I see that. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much to help but I’m gonna try to be there for you more. I’m proud of you, you know.” Callum nods in encouragement, driving his point home. Just because his life is going to shit doesn’t mean everyone else’s has to.

Stuarts smiles again, a beautifully bright smile that’s almost childlike and ducks his head, shy in response to Callum’s praise.

“Thanks Bruv” he nods, before going into his room to retire for the night.

Callum sighs, standing and sending a text to Lola, apologising for their argument earlier. He won’t see her for a couple of days while they have their rest days, and he wants to clear the air, needs to if he’s going to get any rest. It doesn’t happen often, but he hates fighting with Lola, knowing that he’s upset her and knows he won’t have a hope in hell of enjoying his time off if she is mad at him, and that’s without everything else going on.

He’s startled by his phone ringing, and he moves to answer it quickly, assuming it’s Lola calling to talk things through. Her name doesn’t show up though, instead it’s a number Callum doesn’t have saved. Eleven digits that he knows off by heart.

“Ben? How did you get my number?” He whispers, taking refuge in his bedroom and closing the door so Stuart doesn’t overhear.

“I have my ways.” Callum can almost _hear_ the arrogance in his response. “Now, how did you know it was me?”

 _Shit._ “Its an unknown number, who else would it be?”

“I dunno, wrong number, cold caller, an automated voice asking if you’ve been mis sold PPI, but you assumed it was me right away. Or maybe, you didn’t assume, maybe you knew it was me because you saved my number.” He’s teasing, yes, but Callum also picks up on the genuine curiosity in Ben’s voice.

“Can you blame me for wanting to know when the guy who’s trying to kill me is phoning me?”

“When have I ever threatened to kill you?”

“Whatever” Callum relents, Ben’s got him there.

“Hm. How are you getting on with my little task?”

“I told you, I’m not doing it.”

“So you haven’t even tried? Oh you are way more stupid than you look.” He laughs, taunting, but his interest peaks when Callum stays silent. “Or.. maybe you did try?”

“My boss knows me, knows that what I did ain’t me. She will believe me” He's defiant, hopeful.

“Wanna bet?

_No._

“I aint scared of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve established that. You ain’t scared of me, but little Sydney and Noah are.” Callum feels like the blood drains from his body “just look at their little faces.”

“How do you know their names?” Callum’s phone pings in his ear, he opens the message to a picture of Bill’s children playing in a playground. His heart is in his throat, “Ben, you can’t hurt them!”

“I guess I should thank you really, you told me about them. And it only took 5 minutes of Facebook stalking to find out what school they go to. Lovely picture of them in their uniform between a picture of Bill’s allotment and some political shit. Gotta love social media, ay? If you want them to be safe you know what you have to do”

“Ben, please” he’s begging _again._

“I suppose I could spare them. I can expose you instead and little Sydney and Noah will be none the wiser. To them you’ll just be some bloke who _used_ to work with their dad.”

“Ben, how many times to I have to say it, I can’t!” He’s frantic now, pleading.

“Try harder.” Is all Ben says before the phone goes dead.

The next morning Callum pads his way into the kitchen, his body stiff and head throbbing from a restless night of broken sleep and nightmares of Bill’s children being kidnapped or hurt. He pours himself a glass of water and pops some painkillers before idly thumbing through the post Stuart has left on the kitchen side. He’s about to drop the pile back on the side, assuming them all to be bills or circulars, but his grip tightens when he sees a brown envelope with his name on it, no address, meaning it was hand delivered. 

His legs barely carry him to the dining table where he collapses into a chair. With trembling hands, he opens the envelope, emptying its contents. He wants to be sick the moment he sees them, a handful of long lens photos of himself on his way back from work, a photo of him, Lola, Whitney and Martin outside the Albert on his birthday, another of him talking to Shirley and Tina at the bar, clearly taken from outside. So he was being watched, and from the look of these photos it has been happening for much longer than he thought. The revelation makes his mouth water in the way it does immediately before being sick.

There’s another of Stuart coming out of the laundrette wearing clothes that allow Callum to place the photo as being taken a couple of days ago. There’s one more photo, of a young woman who Callum doesn’t immediately recognise on account of not seeing her for years, Zara. His niece, his heart sinks, he can’t have her getting hurt. Not when Stuart is finally getting better, he can’t cope with another setback.

He runs to the sink, vomiting, before splashing his face with cold water. Blinding terror turns to fury as he stands with a new determination, dresses quickly and grabs his keys before heading out, taking rapid, resolute strides towards the place where he will finish this, once and for all. 


	5. In the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s in the café, staring at the bacon roll he stupidly bought when he mistook his nausea for hunger, having already called Stuart twice just to make sure he’s ok, his brother getting irritated at Callum’s sudden need to know his every move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, chapter 5! It's up sooner than expected (as I'm sure you can tell I have no schedule but I have my own estimations of when I'll post) but this one was mostly written when I posted chapter 4 so there wasn't much left to do. Also an fyi that I think this will probably 9 chapters in total, potentially 10 but that's more because I want an even number, so I guess that was bad planning on my part! I hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading :) 
> 
> tw: mild references of abuse and the blackmail continues. There's also reference to Callum not eating due to stress, not sure if that's considered a trigger as such but I wanted to put it here just in case. Take care :)

Cold air slaps at Callum’s face with every step, his feet quickening to match the pace of his heart. He races through the market, ignoring the smiles and chorus of hellos from his friends and neighbours. He continues past the playground, stopping when he reaches the silver BMW he’s seen around the Square and has come to recognise as Ben’s, having arrived at his destination. He takes a deep breath before charging forward and banging loudly on the rusting blue door of the Arches.

“What the _fuck_ is this Ben?” he roars, thrusting the envelope he hadn’t realised he was holding into the air.

Ben momentarily looks shocked, but he covers it quickly. His eyes fall on the envelope, and his brow furrows briefly. “Dotty, time for your lunch break.” It’s only then that Callum becomes aware of a young woman with dark hair and a bunch of piercings in her ear wearing mechanic’s overalls and working on the car in the garage.

“It’s 10 o’clock” she fires back, giving Ben attitude.

Ben rolls his eyes, clearly having had enough of her, Callum can’t think why, he’s her newest fan. “It will be an early lunch then, won’t it? Out.”

She sighs heavily, taking her gloves off and throwing them under the bonnet of the car where she had been working. “I’ll be back in an hour” she states, grabbing her bag and leaving Ben and Callum alone, again.

Ben walks to place the paperwork he’s holding on the table, moving slowly, leaving Callum to simmer when really he's _fucking boiling_. He takes a deep breath before turning to Callum, a polite smile on his face that’s almost laughable next to the cuts and bruises that still litter his skin. “Callum, what can I do you for?”

Callum laughs, its shrill and grates on his throat as it escapes. “Don’t you dare fucking joke with me” his voice is even and hard, and it makes Ben’s ears prick up.

“Relax Callum, the picture of the kids was from Bill’s Facebook, I ain’t some creepy kid stalker”

“Is that it? is that all you have to say” Callum rounds on him, irate.

“Wha-“ Ben looks genuinely confused, _a truly Oscar worthy performance._ “To be honest Callum, I thought you be almost happy to hear from me again, you know, now that I’m _on top of things.”_ Ben toying with Callum, using his own words from the Albert against him is the last straw.

“ENOUGH” Callum surges forward, grabbing Ben by the collar and slamming him against the car, hard. “Enough. Ben.” Its quieter, a hostile voice that Callum doesn’t recognise as his own. Ben looks shocked, clearly taken aback by Callum’s action, but there’s something else, that _thing_ in his eyes that was there at the Albert that makes Callum regret their proximity. He thinks of that night in the Albert, the last time they were this close, the last time their breath mixed together and in spite of himself, his anger dissipates, the fire in his gut dwindling. He releases Ben and takes a step back, takes space to breathe, and when he does the rage returns, oxygen feeding the flames. 

He’s overcome by the urge to punch Ben, to make him stop all this because maybe that’s all he responds to, violence. But he doesn’t want to go there again. Violence was always a last resort for Callum, and right now he doesn’t think he could stomach the feeling of bones against his fist, the sound of his knuckles hitting skin, so he doesn’t. Instead, he turns quickly, feeding the momentum into his fist, punching a metal bookcase behind him. It barely moves, the only damage being a screwdriver falling to the ground, but pain radiates up Callum’s arm, and he can already feel the bruises forming.

Ben looks genuinely surprised at his outburst. “Cal-“

“Have you even taken a second to think about that this is doing to me?” His voice takes on a tone somewhere between furious and pleading and he hates it but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it. “I haven’t slept in weeks, feeling sick all the time, I’m fighting with Lola and paranoid at every turn, or maybe not it seems” he shakes the envelope in his fist. “I knew you were a dickhead but this.. this was a low blow Ben, even for you.” He paces, breathing heavily through the pain and the anger and considers his options, “you know what? Just do it, tell my secret, expose me. Do whatever the fuck you want because it has to be better than _this_. I can’t take this anymore”

“I—"

“You can threaten me, fine. But then you brought Bill and his kids into it and that was bad enough. But then you bring my family into it, my friends. And that is just something else, Ben.”

“Your family? What are you talking about?” Ben’s feigned shock has turned to false confusion and _he’s still playing the fucking game._

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He throws the envelope at Ben’s feet. He picks it up, looking at the photos inside with a guarded expression.

“Callum.. I didn’t send these” he speaks slowly, not in the patronising way Callum is used to from him, but in caution, confusion, like he’s trying to figure it out alongside Callum.

A brutal laugh escapes Callum’s throat “course you didn’t.”

“I mean it. I didn’t do this.” Callum watches him, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Just be honest.”

“In all of this have I lied to you? Why would I? What would I gain from pretending this isn’t me?” When Callum doesn’t answer, dumbfounded, Ben continues. “Callum I have nothing to do with this, I swear.” And then softer, almost as if it’s more to Ben than Callum, “I wouldn’t, not… not to you.”

It does make sense, ever since they met Ben has been rude, snarky and abrasive, _captivating,_ but he’s never been a liar. His whole operation centred around him being very open about what he would do if Callum didn’t tow the line. Plus, Ben did look surprised when he saw the photos, alarmed by Callum showing up and confused by what he was saying. Maybe it wasn’t an act, maybe Ben really didn’t do this. 

“Are you lying to me?”

“No” his reply comes instantly.

“Ben”

“I swear”

It hits him then, he's not sure what _it_ is, but he knows he can't breathe.

“Ben if you didn’t do this then who did” tears burn Callum’s eyes. He doesn’t want to cry, not here, not in front of Ben.

“I don’t know” Callum breathes, and his whole body shakes, tears threatening to spill over. He doesn’t know what to do with this new information. When it was Ben after him it was bad enough, but now he has some random person threatening him and his family, following them. A sickening thought enters Callum’s mind that maybe it’s not some creep lurking in the shadows, it could be one of the people that waved to him on his way to the Arches, right under his nose pretending to be his friend. He doesn’t know who they are or what they’re capable of and it terrifies him.

He looks to Ben, who appears to be working something out in his head. “Wait, where’s that one, the one outside the Albert”. He finds the photo and holds it close, studying it.

“Have you seen this man before?” Ben asks, insistent.

“Yeah that’s Martin” Callum has had enough of this, all of it.

“ _No_ , him” Ben points to a figure Callum hadn’t noticed before in the reflection of the window of the Albert.

“Erm, no? I don’t think so”

“Think, Callum. This is important” Ben’s insistence makes Callum’s stomach flip; _this can’t be good._

“I don’t know Ben, I see so many people through work and he doesn’t exactly stand out does he? Not like” he cuts himself off, _not like you._ “Why, who is it?” he asks quickly, covering his tracks. Ben stays silent, staring at the man in disbelief. “Ben?”

Ben swallows hard. “Danny Hardcastle.” Ben doesn’t elaborate, like Callum is meant to know who this guy is. Obviously he doesn’t, but from the way Ben’s voice shakes he knows this man is bad news.

“Who?”

“Him and my dad, they go way back” ah. Of course Phil is involved in this somehow “let’s just say they’re not exactly bosom buddies.”

“Alright, well what does he want with me? No answer. “Ben” he presses, insistent.

“I don’t know.” Ben erupts, his frustration getting the better of him. “I don’t know. Sorry,” his voice is softer, head in his hands and Callum thinks he preferred it when Ben was shouting. “But I do know that Danny is dangerous, a real psycho. You’re in danger Callum, all of you.”

At that, Callum’s legs give out, his back sliding down the car behind him, landing on the floor roughly. The panic he had just about been keeping at bay for weeks overpowers him, tears spilling from his eyes.

Ben crouches in front of him, his knee touching Callum’s and it feels like fire, cutting through the waves of Callum's tears.

“It will be ok, I can help you.” Ben assures, his hand hovering by Callum’s shoulder before he thinks better of it and draws it back into his chest.

“I don’t want your help” Callum whines, looking away but keeping his knee where it belongs. 

“Tough, its Danny, you’re gonna need it. The guy’s an animal.”

“Coming from you?” it sounds more bitter than Callum expected but he can’t say he regrets it.

“Yeah. Yeah coming from me” Callum feels a twinge in his chest at the resignation written on Ben’s face.

It’s a while later when Callum’s breathing has returned to normal, dried tear tracks making his face feel tight. Ben is sat next to him, not too close, sipping on a beer he declared he needed if Danny was back.

Callum had refused the beer Ben offered him, regretting his decision when Ben replied, “if you knew who we are dealing with you wouldn’t be declining a drink.” Seeing the fear on Callum’s face Ben relented. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“Was it?” Ben looked to the floor, nothing else to say, putting them in the silence they’ve been sat in for god knows how long.

“Well at least I know who it is, that’s good isn’t it? I’ve got a head start, I don’t have to be looking over my shoulder wondering who’s trying to kill me” Callum breaks the silence, nodding and sliding his hands along his thighs in an act of assurance.

“Yes and no, _we_ know who it is but that’s not necessarily a good thing, not when it’s Danny.” Ben gives Callum a pointed look, apparently he was serious about helping. “Plus, if he didn’t want us to know it was him, we wouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Callum asks, deflated that the one lead they had doesn’t seem to be anything.

“Danny has a whole army of henchmen he could have watching you, he doesn’t need to do it himself. He’s there because he wants to be seen. He’s sending a message” Ben takes a swig of his beer.

“What message?”

“A warning. To me and my dad, that robbery-“

“No way, Ben you didn’t rob him..?”

“God no I’m not that stupid. We were…competing”

“You were.. _what?”_

“We were all in on the robbery, all working together for a bit, then my dad and I went a bit.. rogue. Beat him to it.” Ben shakes his head lightly, taking another sip of his beer like he’s only just realised what a _stupid fucking idea_ crossing Danny Hardcastle was.

Callum exhales in disbelief, throwing his head back. “So you double cross a lunatic and now he threatens _my_ family?”

“Seems that way. Look, I am sorry you’ve been caught up in all this” he places his beer bottle on the ground next to him, glass crunching on concrete and turns to face Callum.

A humourless laugh bubbles in Callum’s throat “are you? You were blackmailing me first Ben, this Danny guy has only taken the baton. Why me anyway? You have loads of guys coming and going.”

Ben picks his bottle up again, staring intently at it, fiddling with the label.

“Well yeah but I was never…” He stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I guess he thinks he can get to me through you.”

“Can he?” Callum didn’t mean to ask the question out loud, and it’s one that he doesn’t expect an answer to, especially not the one he gets.

“What do you think?” Ben swallows hard and Callum’s eyes drift down to his neck again, watching how it moves. When he finds Ben’s eyes they are sad but there’s a defiance in his stare that tells Callum that maybe, just maybe he’s telling the truth. That he does care about him and that he can trust Ben, and that right now, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Ben clears his throat, swigging from his bottle and turning away.

They fall into another silence, neither knowing what to say after that. Ben hasn’t looked back to Callum since, his beer bottle being the sole object of his attention.

“I didn’t ask for this Ben. I was just doing my job. I didn’t even go to the police!”

“I know” it's quiet, so quiet that Callum almost misses it. Almost. He snaps his head round to look at Ben so fast he risks getting whiplash.

“You know? Then what is all this?!” he demands, voice rising again.

“My dad he- he wanted to make sure you didn’t blab so he made me do all this. Blackmail you, threaten Bill and his family, say I was gonna expose your criminal past. And I know, I know I’m a big boy and I don’t need to do what daddy tells me, but he just puts so much pressure on me.” He stops, looking far into the distance like there isn’t a wall six feet in front of him, looking anywhere but Callum. “I know it sounds pathetic but trying to get my dad’s approval has been the one constant in my life, it’s what I’m used to. No matter how much I hate it.” He huffs out a long sigh, downing the rest of his beer before slamming the empty bottle on the ground.

“So what you were just gonna do all that because your dad told you to?” There’s a judgement in Callum’s tone that he knows has no right to be there.

“What can I say? I have this compulsive need to please my dad. Toxic trait I know, one of many.” He lets out a bitter laugh before his face becomes serious. “But no, not this time. I had a word with Bill, yeah, but I was never gonna hurt his kids. I found their names on his Facebook, along with that picture, like I said. I know it doesn’t excuse it but I just needed to scare you enough that you wouldn’t talk.“

“Jesus Christ Ben! It worked.” Callum doesn’t know if he should be relieved that Bill and his family aren’t in danger, pissed at Ben for taking him for a mug or pissed at himself because it worked. What he does know, though is that he has another question.

“So you were really gonna tell everyone then.. about me?”

“If I had to, yeah. I am still a Mitchell after all.” He laughs but it’s empty, doesn’t reach his eyes.

And just like that Callum sees it. How much Ben is ruled by his name, his father. The thing Ben pretends to wear as a badge of honour is what strips him of his. Callum knows that feeling, and while the Highway name doesn’t carry as much weight as Mitchell, he knows what its like to live with expectation. The ongoing threat of _do this or else_.

“The Albert. Don’t tell me that was your dad telling you-“

“What? No! No, god no Callum. That was me. That was all me.”

Callum nods, looking forward. He can’t look at Ben right now, can’t look into his eyes or he’ll fall back into a raging river that he’s not entirely sure he ever got out of.

“So I guess it was all you when you kissed that other guy, made sure I saw it.” It’s harsh, unfair, not what Callum should be focusing on but it’s out there now.

Ben opens his mouth but any reply he has dies on his tongue, not getting the chance to see the light of day.

“Knock knock” Dotty’s standing in the doorway looking very fed up. “Am I allowed to do some work now?” she asks, not masking the disdain in her voice on account of her talking to her boss.

“Not now Dot-“

“No, no it’s fine. I was just leaving anyway” Callum stands, stretching his legs that are stiff from being sat on the floor for so long. He gives Dotty a polite smile as he passes her.

“Callum” for the second time in as many days, Callum keeps walking and doesn’t look back.

He’s in the café staring at the bacon roll he stupidly bought when he mistook his nausea for hunger, having already called Stuart twice just to make sure he’s ok, his brother getting irritated at Callum’s sudden need to know his every move. Martin and Whitney have both been in the café, grabbing an early lunch and Shirley posted in the work group chat 10 minutes ago, so he knows they are unharmed. He’s dropped Zara a few text messages asking how she is to which he’s received no reply. Not surprising really, based on how they left things when Callum left for the army. A quick browse of her social media pages tells him that she’s alive and well, though, and is currently enjoying a mini break with her boyfriend in Berlin. He breathes a little easier knowing that they’re safe, _for now._

His relief is short lived though, when he senses someone near him. He tries not to panic as he looks up.

“Hey, I got your text” Lola is stood in front of him looking sheepish and tired, _alive and well_ and Callum has never been so relieved. He stands abruptly, his chair scraping on the ground and pulls her into a bone crushing hug. Echoes of _you’re ok you’re ok you’re ok_ cycle in his mind but something tells him not to verbalise them.

“Callum wha- are you ok?” She sounds partly amused at his display and partly concerned by it, clearly not expecting this reception after their argument. “Whit texted, said you was in here looking glum” he thought he had successfully hidden from Martin and Whitney when they had come in, evidently not.

“Lola…” she gives him a stern look “Lo” she smiles with a nod of satisfaction. “I’ve been a prat, and I’m sorry. You’re right, there has been something going on with me”

“It’s Ben, I knew it” she chimes, victorious.

“No it’s not. Well it is kind of but not what you think. Look, I can’t go into it but trust me when I say I’ll sort it. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“Callum, you’re scaring me a bit” _I’m not scaring you enough._

“It’s ok, I promise” he reaches for her hand, holding it tight more for his sake than hers. “I just- I don’t know what I should do, for the best I mean.” He rubs his free hand over his face, Lola’s eyes track his movement, noticing the purple bruising forming on his knuckles from where he punched the bookcase, but she doesn’t say anything. “I feel like whatever I do someone will get hurt.”

“Callum, I don’t know what trouble you’re in, and I really hope that one day you feel you can tell me, but it sounds like you can’t really win, so screw the ‘should’. Honestly, if as a kid I listened to what everyone in the children’s home told me I’d be I ‘should’ be some dead beat somewhere just because I didn’t do great in school. But I’m not, I have an amazing job that I love, and I get to save people’s lives every day. I have a wonderful boyfriend and even better friends” she winks, giving his hand a loving squeeze. “Don’t tell Jay I said that. Anyway, as I was saying, screw the ‘should’s’ they only stop you from being who you are, doing what you want to do. So, what do you _want_ Callum?”

It’s not a question he’s asked a lot, not when it’s not about something minor, like what he wants for dinner, or sometimes said by Shirley in greeting and it throws him. _What does he want?_ He wants everyone to be safe, he wants to go back to yesterday when all he had to worry about was Ben, not some lunatic criminal mastermind out for the blood of him and the people he loves for no apparent reason. No, he wants to go back more than that, to before he met Ben, before this all happened. He wants to sleep through the night again, to not have to look over his shoulder at every turn. He wants a second chance, to meet Ben properly, no injuries or robberies or Danny’s or Phil’s, just them. Getting to know each other like normal people.

“I just want us to be friends again” is what he says, his voice smaller than he’s let it sound in a long time.

Lola sighs, giving Callum a look that coming from anyone else would be pitying, maybe it is. “Of course we’re friends you idiot” she cries, taking his other hand in hers, careful to avoid his bruises. “But,” she quirks here eyebrow in mock consideration, a cheeky smile forming on her lips. “If you _really_ want to make it up to me, you can cover a shift with me tomorrow? Iqra and Chantelle have come down with something and they need cover. If you don’t do it with me Shirley will and as great as she is, I think I’d rather pluck my eyeballs out than do an entire shift with just her.” She takes a bite of the toast Tina has just put in front of her. Callum chuckles, he reckons he’d do the same.

“Eat up, a pig died for that” she adds through a mouthful of toast, gesturing towards Callum’s plate.

He freezes for a nanosecond, he hasn’t been able to eat much over the last few weeks on account of all the stress, and if the way Lola is watching his is anything to go by, she’s noticed. _Of course she has._ He takes a bite of his bacon roll and immediately he wants to gag but he perseveres, and actually enjoys it, his body clinging onto the nourishment.

“Night or day?” he asks, taking another bite that brings a small smile to Lola’s lips.

“Day.”

“Ugh, fine! But only because it’s you” he exclaims, putting on the dramatics. They both giggle, and it’s the lightest Callum has felt in weeks despite him being in more danger than ever.

Callum stands outside the door to his flat, he doesn’t get the sense he’s being watched as much as he did before, but nevertheless, he’s relieved to be home. Maybe the fact he knows he has been followed has made him weirdly make peace with it, or maybe Ben was right, now that Danny has sent his message, made his presence known, he doesn’t need to watch Callum anymore. He’s startled by a crash of drums and Stuart’s off-key singing to some old Genesis song that Callum vaguely recognises, and he bites back a groan. This won’t be good.

When he enters the flat however, he’s pleasantly surprised. “Bruv! You’re back” Stuart is dressed in ratty clothes, dustsheets everywhere with a roller in his hand and a smile on his face. He’s painting the flat. “Sorry, hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t look at those flippin’ flowers anymore.”

“No, no you’re good. Like you said they were a nightmare.” To his own ears he sounds distant, so he tells himself to make more of an effort, honour the promise he made to his brother only hours ago.

“Yeah, think we’re gonna need a few more coats to cover the bloody things.” He looks wide eyed at the walls like the flowers have a mind of their own.

Callum lets out a small laugh at the prospect of his big brother being bested by wallpaper. “Let me get changed and I’ll help.”

“Sounds good” Stuart nods, looking surprised and chuffed that Callum wants to help, wants to spend time with him and it breaks Callum’s heart to think that Stuart thinks he wouldn’t want to. It almost shatters when he realises that it’s often true.

It’s 3 hours later when what they hope to be the final coat of paint is drying. Callum and Stuart are sat on the sofa, having a beer in celebration- their triumph over the floral eyesore. “Right, I need some sugar and a cuppa” Stuart declares, sitting forward and slapping his thighs.

“You’ve got a beer?”

“Yeah, but I need some sugar and a cuppa.” He repeats, like questioning these specific needs is a sacrilege. “I’m going to the caff, wanna come?”

“Nah, you’re alright, think I might go for a run actually, get some air.” He hasn’t been for a run in weeks with everything going on, and while he’s been trapped in his head the whole time, he wants to take the opportunity of having some time to get some headspace and properly think about everything.

“Suit yourself, I’m gonna have some cake” Stuart replies, sounding a little put out.

“Have a bit for me, yeah?” Callum calls as he goes into his room to get changed.

He’s running through the park enjoying the mid-afternoon sun, chest heaving and legs starting to ache from the exertion. His body may not have loved the run but it’s done his head some good at least. He’s not sure why or how but he’s feeling a little better, _probably the endorphins_. He’s still constantly nervous and terror sporadically claims him at the thought of his loved ones being hurt, but the lighter moments he’s had today have been a godsend, and he’s not sure he would have been able to have them a couple of days ago. He wants to believe it’s because he knows who’s after him, and even though Danny is dangerous, and Callum doesn’t know his terms yet, something feels different. He’s trying to tell himself that it’s not because of his talk with Ben earlier, finding out that while very flawed, he may not be the monster Callum had him down as this morning. That it’s not because Ben wants to help him, because Callum doesn’t want his help, he can do this on his own.

He’s slowed to a walk now, cooling down on his way home. He’s next to The Vic in a bit of a post run daze when the sound of his phone ringing brings him back to himself. It’s another unknown number, not Ben’s, and Callum suddenly feels stupid for thinking he could take a breather. He tries to steady his trembling voice as he answers “hello?”

“Callum Highway.” Terror slips down Callum’s spine at the unknown voice saying his name, the thick Liverpudlian accent filling his ears.

“Danny—you’re Danny Hardcastle.” He stammers, gripping the phone until his knuckles turn white and continuing to hold on.

“I am. No need to worry, no harm has come to your family, yet. But I need your help, Callum” the relief he feels is short lived, he’s about to hear Danny’s terms for his family’s safety.

“Wha- what do you want?” He gulps, fearful for what Danny’s next words will mean for him.

“Don’t sound so scared, boy” Danny laughs, the sound reminding Callum why he’s so _terrified_ “I just need some dirt on the Mitchells. I’ve known Phil for a long time but I could always use some more… intel.”

“You want me to spy on the Mitchells?”

He laughs, cruel even in his delight. “Steady on, James Bond. I’m not even asking that, aren’t I being nice? Just tell me what you know”

“I don’t know anything.”

“I think we both know that’s not true. I think you know something about the robbery and you could probably tell me a fair bit about Ben.”

“I- I don’t”

“Come on, you’re getting off easy here. You’d have to be an idiot to turn this down” Danny’s coaxing, luring Callum into what can only be a trap.

“So I tell you what I know about the Mitchell’s and you leave my family and friends alone? That’s it?” He needs to say it out loud, make sure he’s got it right. This can’t be all Danny wants from him.

“Yes”

_It can’t be that easy._

“Provided nothing else comes up” Danny adds, and Callum can hear him sneering.

_There it is._

“Tell you what, I’m feeling generous. Why don’t I give you a day to think about it? Let you wrack your brain a bit, see if you remember something worth my while. And if not then.. well, you know what.” Danny’s teasing tone turns serious, and Callum does _know what._

It plays out like a scene in a film and any other time Callum would marvel at how cinematic this whole thing is. He sees Ben first, trudging towards his house, followed by Phil at his heels in hot pursuit, his face like thunder. Ben looks tense, distressed, he looks up, as if he knows he’s being watched, and his eyes lock on to Callum’s. For the briefest moment all the pain falls from Ben’s face, a millisecond of peace, before Phil’s hand is wrapping around the back of his neck, dragging Ben inside, his eyes wide, timid and defenceless, going into battle unarmed.

His eyes drift across the Square to where Martin and Whitney have just returned from a shift, giving each other a brief hug in farewell, before entering their neighbouring houses. Martin is greeted by his wife, Stacey, with a toddler on her hip and another young child running to greet their dad. He sees Stuart outside the Café, who notices him and beckons his brother to join him, probably desperate for his iced bun and a cuppa. He imagines Lola, curled up with Jay on the sofa, how she’ll greet him tomorrow with a smile and a coffee, the way she always does when they have an early shift. He thinks of Zara on holiday with her boyfriend, Shirley joking with Tina and breathes deeply, his lungs aching when he takes in too much air but it’s still _not enough._

“Callum? You there?”

Danny’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, dulls the swirling thoughts in his head all screaming to be heard. “Yeah, I’m still here.” His next breath releases just a little bit easier because _he is still here_ despite everything. He has so much that he is not going to lose, and sure as hell not without a fight.

He justifies it by telling himself that this is Ben and Phil’s fight, not his, and certainly not Lola, Martin, Whitney, Shirley, Stuart or Zara’s. That whatever he can tell Danny about them will not be news to him, probably won’t be of any use to him at all unless he wants to know that Ben smells like the outdoors and smoke and that while his hands look rough from years of working on cars they’re actually soft and surprisingly delicate.

He pretends he doesn’t see Ben’s face from moments ago when he closes his eyes, the despair evaporating from his features when he saw Callum, only to be replaced by fear when Phil assumed his vice grip on his son’s neck. He tells himself that Ben chose this, that he wouldn’t be the same, that if he hadn’t had the courage, the _opportunity_ to leave his dad when he did, that would have found some other way to break free that Ben has chosen not to.

Callum tells himself these lies and says a silent prayer that he knows that the _fuck_ he’s doing as he makes a deal with the devil “I’ll do it.” he swallows the scream forming in his throat “I’ll tell you everything I know about the Mitchells.”


	6. The Mole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows he on rocky territory, he may as well be standing on a landmine. What he’s saying is uncomfortable, but it needs to be said. So he grips his bottle a little tighter, letting the cold condensation on his fingers ground him, give him the strength to keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! This one was a bit of a pain at times to be honest but I hope you like it! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit heavy in places so please read the trigger warnings and tags and as always, take care :) 
> 
> tw: repeated mention of domestic violence, abuse and reference to past depression and very brief (and somewhat vague) reference to suicidal thoughts.

Callum lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling making patterns from the shadows cast by the streetlights filtering in through a gap in the curtains he purposefully left open when he drew them before bed. He used to do this all the time as a kid, when his father’s vicious shouting kept him awake, or his mother’s sobs and moans of pain seeped through the walls straight into his heavy heart. He knew tonight would be one of those nights, a night where he needed a distraction from his messy mind, so he left a gap in the curtains for the first time in years.

He had spent the rest of the day in a weird state of feeling dazed yet hyperaware, feeling like any second his phone would ring again and Danny would force him to make good on his promise _I’ll tell you everything I know about the Mitchells._ Even thinking about it makes him feel sick. He nodded numbly when Stuart excitedly examined their DIY handywork, gave short yet polite replies to Lola’s texts about how much of an idiot he was for thinking that one argument meant that they weren’t friends anymore, and flicked aimlessly through the channels on the TV, staring at the screen without seeing anything but the fear in Ben’s eyes when Phil grabbed his neck and led him into their house before trying- and failing- to get an early night.

He closes his eyes in the hope that sleep might be near, never mind the fact that not being able to sleep is aggravating, he’s got to report for the cover shift he agreed to do with Lola at 7:30am. He jumps violently at the sound of his phone ringing, the screen casting an ominous white glow over his bedroom, dissolving the shadows, disturbing any peace of mind Callum had found. He glances at the screen long enough to see it read 23:47, you can take the man out of the army, but you can’t take him off military time. It’s another unknown number, not the same as Danny used earlier and it makes his stomach twist.

“Hello Callum” Callum releases a breath, he’s almost relieved to hear Danny’s voice, at least there’s not someone else after him.

“Danny”

“I’m looking forward to our little chat, are you?”

 _No. absolutely not._ “sure, then you can leave me alone.”

“Perhaps”

“What?” He sits up quickly and the room spins.

“You see, I said I’d leave you alone as long as nothing else came up and, well, something else has come up”

_Oh god_

“No, no you sai-“

“That’s exactly what I said. I’m a man of my word unlike Ben” Callum knows what that means, it’s not about what Danny said, it’s a reminder that his threats are very much not empty.

“What is it?”

Danny laughs “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I’ve got work early tomorrow” he replies, completing yet another addition to the list of stupid shit he’s said.

“You see after Phil and his mini me did me over with that robbery, my pockets have been feeling a bit light. There’s another target, a bigger one this time, way more money than the last one. I’m going to get what’s mine, and rumour has it you have some experience in the field.”

“Probably not at light as the person who was actually robbed” _what the fuck are you doing? Don’t get smart with him._ “You want me to help you with a robbery?” He asks quickly, hoping by some miracle that Danny didn’t hear his dig. His heart quickens to a pace he’s not sure it reached even earlier today, and he tries to steady his breathing.

“Cut the cheek, Highway.” He warns, his voice is hard, sharp. “You are learning though, and you’d be really helping me out, not to mention your family, of course.”

_Shit shit shit._

“Danny Please” he can’t help it, he’s resorted to begging Danny Hardcastle for mercy. It felt pointless when he was begging Ben but this is just laughable. But what else can he do? Danny is playing with the lives of the people Callum loves like they’re nothing but getting involved in crime again would take him back to a place he swore he’d never go again, a place he’s not confident he has a way out of again.

“Meet me tomorrow at quarter to midnight, I’ll tell you where when you agree to it. You have until the morning to say yes, unless you want to agree straight away again?” Callum gulps and nods _why the fuck are you nodding, idiot_ until he croaks out a weak ‘ok’ in response.

“You have until 7am. Sleep tight, Callum” He chirps, sounding happy as Larry. With that Danny hangs up and Callum is left in an ear-splitting silence. He quickly realises that his already doomed attempted at getting any sleep tonight is now completely futile, and blinks back the tears stinging his eyes.

Despite his blood running cold Callum is suddenly too hot. He throws the duvet off himself and jumps out of bed, throwing on a pair of jogging bottoms and a hoodie. Before he knows it, he’s standing outside his flat, the cool night air whipping at his exposed skin. He sets off walking, quickening his pace to avoid a group of women clearly on their way to E20 and keeps moving fast until he breaks into a jog.

He’s running, one foot in front of the other faster than the last, trying desperately to focus on the rhythmic pattern of his footfall and not the thoughts swirling in his head threatening to drown him. He’s been here before, running through a park late at night trying to figure out his mess of a life, trying to carve a way forward instead of falling back again. But this isn’t like being in the closet, pretending won’t fix this, it’s not just his little secret and he knows that Danny won’t give up. He can’t run away either, because this isn’t just on him, if he runs then his family and friends get his punishment. There’s no way out.

But there is, of course there is. _Just do the fucking job._ It’s one job, one. It doesn’t have to take you back to that time, you’re stronger now, better, you won’t fall into the hole, and if you do you’re much better able to get out of it this time.

He thinks back to four years ago, when he was fresh out the army, injured, penniless and terrified of his own shadow. How he was taken in by one of his army friends who had been medically discharged a few months before him. He told Callum that this was it, their way to freedom, money and a better life. Callum was still in so much pain and disorientated from being plunged back into civilian life that he just went along with it, as he always did. Put his trust in someone he thought was worthy of it, someone he thought was looking out for him, as he always did. But he was wrong, like he always was.

The jewellery heist wasn’t his first crime, they built him up first with smaller jobs, domestic robberies and intercepting trade shipments and he was only ever the getaway driver, but he vowed to himself that the heist would be his last. He was in way over his head and he could feel the goodness in him slip away a little more with each job until it got to the point where he didn’t recognise himself at all. He couldn’t see a way out and after two bottles of whiskey and some very scary thoughts he finally listened to Stuart and went to the doctor. Antidepressants, therapy where he couldn’t be totally honest about what had got him to that stage and making an effort to repair the fractures in his relationship with his brother all helped him start to find his feet again.

Then, one day he was out in town when an older woman collapsed on the street. He stayed with her until the ambulance arrived and was so in awe of them that he started researching ‘how to be a paramedic’ the second he got home, bursting with excitement at the prospect of finally getting his life on track. He used his cut from the heist to pay for his tuition fees and worked at a bar nearby while studying to make ends meet. He reckoned that most 25 year olds were saving every penny they could for house deposits or weddings, but as a very single, very lonely closeted man that thought never really crossed his mind, and whenever it did it just made his chest ache.

He found a way out that time, but it took him all the fight he had, and sure, there are people around him now that love him and would do anything to help him, but while Callum is rotting in prison somewhere after Danny turns him in or something, they’ll still be busy going out and saving lives. Lola will get a new partner and they’ll all forget about him. They might think about him occasionally, be disgusted by what he did and glad he’s not there with them. Love turns to hate, friendship to animosity, or worse, indifference. And suddenly Callum is all alone again, fighting a losing battle. He can’t do it. He can’t fall back down that slippery slope. He’ll talk to Danny, make him understand the implications of what he’s asking. He’ll talk to Jay and see if he can get more information about Phil, see if Danny will take that instead of Callum’s help with the job. _Anything but this._

He’s been staring down at his feet for ages, thinking that it didn’t really help him stay calm, but who knows what state he’d be in if he hadn’t been watching every step he took, so there’s that at least. When he finally looks up he’s momentarily surprised by his whereabouts, before an ironic laugh leaves his lips, an unsaid _of course I’m here._ He steps forward and knocks on Ben’s front door. 

“Callum.”

“Ben” his face is flushed, the pale red wash that follows panic. Broken tear tracks lay dried on his cheeks, fragmented by what Callum can only imagine was a rough wipe by soft, harsh hands. And he looks tired, so so tired. “Sorry. It’s late, I should go.” He turns to leave, but is stopped in his tracks, stopped in time by a hand on his arm, tender, insistent.

“No, don’t go. Stay.” Callum turns, he looks at his phone in his hand, 12:36. He didn’t even make it an hour before coming here. “Please?” it’s so quiet, so timid that if Callum wasn’t looking at Ben as the word left his mouth, he might have thought it had come from a child. He nods, slow and firm and closes the door behind him, closing the door to the ugly world outside.

Ben leads them into the kitchen and leans against the kitchen counter. Callum tentatively settles against the counter opposite him, no longer able to keep from seeking the answer to the question that formed in his mind the second he laid eyes on Ben. “Are you ok?”

A small smile forms on Ben’s lips, disappearing just as quickly, leaving its ghost behind it.

“Yeah, just had a little _chat_ with my dad. I usually come off worse from those. Well, always really.” He laughs but it’s heavy, then he winces.

_Shit._

In his guilt and subsequent panic Callum had forgotten what he saw between Ben and Phil earlier in the day. Its weird, seeing as he has replayed the image of Ben looking so terrified on a loop in his mind since, but seemingly failed to replay the rest of the scene. His only salvation in his promise to Danny was the delusion that Ben chose this, wanted it, and Phil dragging him inside by the neck to do god knows what didn’t fit into that narrative, so apparently, Callum had blocked it out.

“Your face..” it’s only now that he notices more bruising around Ben’s right eye and cheekbone. It blends in with the bruises from his last beating, the fresh purple joining the faded greens and yellows of the older ones. It’s a sight _and a feeling_ that Callum knows all too well.

He doesn’t remember telling his body to move forward, his hand to reach for Ben’s face, but somehow, it’s there, centimetres away from him. Ben flinches back slightly, watching Callum’s hand like it’s poised to attack.

“Please, Ben. I just want to check you haven’t broken anything.” He gives a faint nod, and Callum’s fingers close the gap, his fingertips icy against Ben’s inflamed skin. He uses is thumbs to feel along his cheekbones, around his eyes and his browbones, making sure his eyes are focused on what he’s doing, looking at Ben’s injuries and not into his eyes because he can’t do that, he can’t get lost in him now. But he can feel Ben’s eyes on him and it _burns_.

He’s careful to not press on the bruised skin, an almost impossible task but Ben only flinches once, so Callum will take that as a success. “I don’t think you’ve broken anything. You should ice your face though” _and get the fuck away from your dad._

Ben doesn’t move, Callum doesn’t move. They stay there, stood in the middle of the kitchen, Ben face in Callum’s hands, paralysed by whatever _this_ is. The tap drips and the fridge hums but they don’t hear it, they don’t hear anything because it’s like the Albert again. They’re in their own parallel universe where nothing else exists but them, lost yet found in each other’s gaze, oblivious to the world but enlightened to each other.

Ben clears his throat, blinking his eyes back into focus, back into reality, “drink?”

Callum shakes his head in an attempt to bring him into the present. “Erm.. yeah. Actually can I have some water please?”

“Water? I meant more like a beer or something.” He questions, as he busies himself getting a beer from the fridge.

“Uh. No thanks, I just went for a run, could do with water really.”

“You went for a run at midnight?” Ben asks, amused, as he grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and places it on his face.

“Er, yeah. Well ten to. It was.. unexpected. Needed to clear my head is all.” He can feel a slight blush creep into his face and he ducks his head to try and hide it.

“Right.” Ben’s looking at him like he’s mad, maybe he is. “So.. why are you here then?” _Ah, the million-pound question._

“Dunno really, was passing through” it’s true, Callum wasn’t sure why he found himself standing outside Ben’s front door, but he sure as hell knows it’s not because he was _passing through._ There’s a niggling feeling, a voice in his head telling him _you know exactly why you’re here, idiot._

“I er-- I heard from Danny.” Ben snap his head up, watching Callum with wide eyes.

“And? What does he want?” He’s insistent, _alive_ and as much as his question causes a fresh wave of panic to rise in Callum, hearing Ben’s still got some fight in him gives him some relief.

“He wants me to tell him everything I know about you and your dad and he’ll leave my family alone”

“Righ-“

“And I stupidly believed him and said yes.” Ben bristles, he looks down, shaking his head and his shoulders shake in what Callum thinks is a laugh.

“Guess I deserved that.” He slams the frozen peas on the counter before turning to face Callum, his eyes hard, his jaw set, Mitchell mode fully engaged. “You should go.”

“I ain’t leaving.” Callum moves to take a glass and get himself a drink of water. Its bold, with him being in Ben’s house for the first time and just having been told to leave, but times like these call for bold strokes. “Danny wants me to do a job” he says, taking a large gulp of water.

“Does he now?” His tone drips with sarcasm, _fuck, you’re losing him._

“Yeah. Apparently there’s another robbery happening. He wants me to help him get back at you and your dad.” Ben’s face drops the tiniest bit, just enough to tell Callum that the other robbery isn’t news to him.

“And you’re telling me this because..?”

Callum gulps, “I haven’t said I’ll help him yet.”

“So what, you want my permission now? You didn’t seem to need it before when you agreed to spy on me and my dad for our sworn enemy.”

“Firstly, I ain’t spying. Second there’s not anything I could tell Danny about you that he don’t already know. Ben you know the stakes, he’s threatening the people I love. I have to do what he says.” 

“Do it, then” Ben shrugs, like it a simple fix to a simple problem.

“What? No Ben I can’t. I can’t go back there. When I left the army I had nothing, I was injured and depressed and I fell into crime because I had nothing else. I was low Ben, like 2 bottles of whiskey and some really scary thoughts low. And I had to fight tooth and nail to get out of that, turn my life around and get a job I love and a life I’m proud of. I can’t go back to that place Ben, because getting out of it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I don’t think I could do it again” he looks down to see that his hands are shaking, he runs them down his thighs but its not enough, so he crosses his arms tight across his chest.

“So what do you want me to do? Give you some juicy Mitchell family secrets to keep Danny happy and your oaf of a brother safe for another day or two until Danny has another request?” He sounds bitter, and if Callum didn’t know any better he’d say Ben sounded hurt.

“What? No, Ben. Of course not.” he didn’t know why he had decided to go to Ben’s, he wasn’t even aware that it was a decision he had made. Something just drew him there. As much as he didn’t want to admit it the pull to Ben was still there, still ruling him despite everything. He understands Ben, knows that had not had the strength to walk out on his dad and never look back then he could easily be in Ben’s shoes, have his face littered by the same bruises currently colouring Ben’s own.

“I just—you know Danny. I thought maybe you’d be able to help me figure out a way to get him off my back. You did say earlier you wanted to help me.”

“I did say that. Then you walked out, so I’m not sure where we stand with that one” _or anything_. “Like I said this morning, you’re in danger, all of you are. If it was just you I’d say run, to be honest it’s still probably your best bet, but you won’t do that. So I guess you’re gonna have to play along for now.”

“What? You mean I have to do what Danny says? I have to do the job?”

“Yeah, and your little research project” He adds, picking up the bag of frozen peas and slapping it back onto his injured face in a sulk.

“Oh enough Ben. I’ll tell him what you want me to tell him, then you have the control. I’m not a complete arsehole.”

“Ooh. The student becomes the master.” He teases, swigging his beer, before leaning forward, his eyes finding Callum’s in an intense stare down. “Was that always the plan?”

Callum’s silence answers for him, and he has to look away. “I didn’t have one. I wasn’t gonna land you in it and I wasn’t gonna not. I honestly just didn’t know.” He picks up his water for something to do.

Ben nods once and takes a long drink of his beer. They’re quiet for a moment and the peace stretches on, both men lost in their own thoughts.

“There weren’t any pictures of your mum, in the ones Danny sent” The words crash through the silence, hitting Callum like a bus. Ben’s eyes are wide, his hand clutched around his beer bottle frozen near his chin, he clearly regrets saying that, maybe he didn’t even mean to say it out loud.

Ben looks like he’s about to speak again, probably to apologise for what he said, but Callum beats him to it, praying his voice comes out steady.

“No, she left when I was 9.”

“I’m sorry”

_Leave it there leave it there leave it there._

“Honestly, even if she was in one of them I wouldn’t recognise her.”

_Stop talking stop talking stop talking._

“We had someone come in and talk at school one day. One of them PSHE days where they’d talk about ‘life issues’ which always just ended up being sex ed and the occasional CV workshop in year 11; not the useful stuff like how to pay bills and what taxes are.” He huffs out a laugh and Ben nods in agreement.

“Anyway, one time they were talking about relationships, how they aren’t always good. They touched on domestic violence and I’ll never forget what the woman said. She said that a lot of abusers hurt their victims in easy to cover places, like the torso or back, legs or upper arms. My dad didn’t do that. He’d hit mum, Stuart and me right in the face. Give us black eyes that would last for weeks, broken fingers that had to be bandaged for months. He didn’t even try to hide what he was doing to us. And the worst part? No one said anything. No one helped, they all could see what he was doing, how scared we all were, but they did nothing. Nothing.” He falls silent for a bit, Ben watching him intently, not wanting to interrupt his flow, kill any more words that he might want to share with him. “I don’t even know if my mum is alive. I hope she is. I hope she found happiness.” He adds finally, a small, sad smile on his face.

Ben remains quiet, his mouth opens a few times as if to speak but he thinks better of it each time, leaving Callum to reminisce more, something he doesn’t want to do.

“Anyway, you don’t need to hear my sob story” he laughs, an empty, shallow laugh that echoes around the room and wipes some stray tears from his eyes. When he looks to Ben he’s already watching Callum like he’s looking at some horrible accident that he just can’t tear his eyes away from. Ben stands, moving towards Callum and stops about a foot in front of him. He lifts his hand slowly, asking Callum silently if he can touch, he nods slightly. Ben brings his hand to Callum’s face, gentle, then firmer as he feels more confident that Callum won’t pull away.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But I’m here Callum. I’m here to help you now”

Ben brings his other hand to Callum’s cheek, guiding his head down towards him slowly. For a moment, Callum thinks he’s going to kiss him, and his heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t. Instead he brings his forehead up to meet Callum’s, resting it against his and takes a deep breath, releasing it into the space between them. It’s not the heart stopping kiss Callum was expecting, but Ben Mitchell, someone who’s known for having more than a few notches on his bedpost choosing not to kiss Callum but to hold him close, breathe the same air feels so much more intimate than any kiss and Callum thinks his heart stops altogether.

They stay like that for a long time, just holding each other close, breathing the same air and pretending nothing outside their bubble exists.

They’re sat of the sofa now, close but not too close, Ben leans forward and Callum notices finger shaped marks on the back of his neck. A wave of anger swells within him and he wants to find Phil and tell him that he can’t do that to his son, find his own father and tell him that that’s not how you treat your child but then Ben shifts, angling his knee so it presses against Callum’s and tells himself it’s an accident, like in the Arches that morning. But maybe it’s not an accident. Maybe it wasn’t in the Arches either.

They sit in silence again. For someone who hates silence Callum spends a lot of time in it with Ben. It’s ok, though, because he’s learning to get used it. And he’s starting to like it _a lot_.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Ben’s words are sudden, almost like he blurts them out the second they came into his head and the sudden noise makes Callum’s insides jump.

“Never said I didn’t” he smiles, turning to face Ben. “I probably should.” He thinks back to what Lola said to him in the café earlier that day, “someone told me recently that ‘should’s’ are the enemy, all they do it confine you, stop you doing what you really want, being who you really are.” Callum shrugs conversationally and takes a gulp of the beer he accepted after their moment in the kitchen, because he definitely needed a drink after _that_. “You know, I think your ‘should’ is your dad, forcing you to do things you don’t want to do, be someone you don’t want to be, someone you’re not, not really.” He watches Ben out of the corner of his eye, he bristles, but only a little.

“You don’t-“

“I know that if I hadn’t have walked away from my dad, banished him from my life I’d be the same. Stuck. Ruled by him, wanting his approval and jumping through every hoop they’re is to try and get it. And I can see how that would do.. this, make you the way you are. Contaminate the good things, make you think you’re not worthy of them.” He releases a breath, playing with his beer bottle in his hands. He knows he on rocky territory, he may as well be standing on a landmine. What he’s saying is both confronting to Ben and revealing for himself, its uncomfortable, but it needs to be said. So he grips his bottle a little tighter, letting the cold condensation on his fingers ground him, give him the strength to keep going.

“I guess the reason I don’t hate you Ben is because I know that it could have been me. That the only thing that separates us is a decision. One decision, that I made, and you didn’t. I don’t hate you Ben, because I understand you.” His breath shakes as he exhales and he takes another drink before staring at the table in front of him, waiting for Ben to say something, tell him to leave, burst into tears, fly off the handle, _anything._

But he doesn’t, he’s either too angry or too surprised to speak, so Callum’s mouth decides to fill the silence without permission from his brain.

“I’ve seen the good in you, Ben.”

“God knows when” he scoffs, his voice is strained, quiet.

Callum turns to face him to see the Ben had again been watching him, he turns away quickly though, looking anywhere but Callum. “The way you are with me, the way you look at me when your guard is down. The way you touched my hand, so gentle, the way you brought me a muffin when must have I looked like I was gonna pass out, the way you went right into protecting me when you found out that Danny is after me and the way you say my name so soft I feel like I’m gonna break.” Ben looks at him, his eyes blown wide, looking shocked again like he did in the hospital cafeteria the day they met.

Callum takes a deep breath, knowing his next words are probably the riskiest of everything he’s said, but he’s here and he’s got this far and he’s going for broke. “I had to get out of my dark place on my own, Ben. But you don’t.”

For a moment Ben’s face doesn’t change, his eyes search Callum’s face and he briefly looks so conflicted he looks almost pained. He sighs and drops his head, keeping his eyes trained on his thigh.

So that’s that, then.

Callum slides forward, placing his bottle on the table and he’s about to stand, to walk out and not turn back not because he wants to this time, but because he’s gone too far. He’ll leave because Ben wants him to.

“You should do the job.” It’s loud and firm. Urgent like he’s forced the words out of his mouth against his better judgement.

“ _What?”_

Ben’s head is in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs which are bouncing rapidly. Callum’s never seen him this rattled and he doesn’t know what to make of it. “Tell Danny you’ll do the job, get him off your case. He’ll give you information about it, probably not a lot but hopefully enough.” His voice is even, a monotone that feels rehearsed, unnatural. The voice he uses when he has his game face on, when he discusses plans with Phil.

“Enough for what?”

“To tell the police, get him locked up. Then you can tell them about the blackmail, you have those pictures as evidence. Then he’s gone, and you and your friends and family are safe.”

“It ain’t really that simple is it?”

“Probably not. But a flawed plan is better than no plan.” He finally looks up at Callum,

“I’m not sure the way out of this is double crossing Danny again.” Callum’s not convinced, what is it they say? Insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome.

Ben shrugs. “With any luck he’ll be in prison. If not, then dad’s got a villa in Portugal we can hide in for the rest of eternity.” Callum laughs, because it was a joke, wasn’t it?

Ben doesn’t laugh.

“Why are you helping me?” Callum asks, the room suddenly serious again.

Ben swivels so his body is facing Callum. It’s the most direct he’s been since the kitchen, and Callum’s stomach twists in anticipation of his answer. “Because I dragged you into this. Because I want you to be safe. Because you’re good, a rare good that doesn’t really exist in the world anymore, not mine at least.” Ben’s eyes are soft, so soft it hurts. Sure, he’s looked at Callum in ways before that have done things to him, but those looks were full of want, tension and electricity. This is different, this is _feeling,_ affection, protection and another word that Callum won’t even let himself think.

He ignores the butterflies that have taken occupancy in his stomach and releases the air caught in his lungs.

“Your dad, you need to put him off the job. Make sure he’s not there. The police will arrest him too.” When Ben quirks an eyebrow at him Callum clarifies “I saw your reaction when I said Danny wants me to do the job. You knew about it, and that only means one thing.”

Ben nods, impressed at Callum’s detective work and it sends a tingle down Callum’s spine. “Or not, we could set them both up.” Callum’s about to laugh again but Ben’s face is dead serious. This isn’t a joke.

“What? Ben that’s your dad yo--”

“I know. But it’s like you said, I can’t be ruled by him anymore. You ain’t the only one who can’t sleep, Callum. Can’t stop worrying, always feeling sick. Feeling like you’re on a knife edge all the time and one small slip would destroy everything.” His knuckles have turned white around his bottle and Callum reaches out slowly to take it from his hand, placing it on the table next to his own. “You said you used to worry about what version of your dad you’d get when he got home, what he would do, well that’s still me now.” Callum remembers the bruises on the back of Ben’s neck and a fire ignites within him.

“And I can’t live like this anymore, not when I don’t have to. Not when I’ve seen another way.” He smiles softly at Callum, his eyes shining. “I want out of the Mitchell Dynasty. I need out”

“Ben are you sure?” Callum reaches for Ben’s face, lifting it towards his own gently. Ben looks scared, sure, but also brave, _hopeful_ , like this could be the start of what he’s wanted for his whole life. He nods, once, twice, each with more certainty than the last.

“I’m making that decision, Callum. And I’ll never be as good as you are, but I can be better than this.”

“We’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this” Callum takes his phone out of his pocket and finds the number Danny called him on a few hours ago. His fingers tremble has he types the message:

**Danny. Its Callum. I’m in.**

**\--**

**Good. 11:45 tomorrow at the South Docks. Come alone.**

The reply is almost instant, and Callum feels bile rise in his throat as Ben reads the message over his shoulder before he throws his phone onto the armchair next to him. 

"Well, now we have a location." He feels a hand on his face, turning him towards Ben, its gentle, but firmer than earlier, more urgent.

Ben’s eyes rake over Callum’s face, before dropping to his lips. His fingertips fall down Callum’s cheek, tracing his jaw and continuing lower to his neck, sketching out the column of his throat. He moves closer and there’s no one here to stop him, no Martin barging in to vomit, no nurse to check on Ben. No one except them and this moment that been building for so torturously long.

Ben’s lips brush against his and Callum can’t help but breathe heavily, releasing the air in his lungs, releasing every worry that’s been plaguing him for the the last few weeks, months, _years_ because all there is is this and now. Ben kisses him lightly and Callum stops breathing altogether. He moves away, looking at Callum to gage his reaction but he doesn’t get to because Callum is moving back in, faster, surer and _no one can stop him_.

He kisses Ben like his life depends on it, like there’s no tomorrow because at this rate, there might not be. His fingers tangle in Ben’s hair and he swings his legs round, kneeling with one of his knees next to Ben, the other presses between his thighs, surrounding himself in _Ben_. The kiss deepens and Ben arches his back, his chest pressing against Callum’s and they both let out breathless moans. Ben guides them into a laying position, and they kiss again, Callum’s hands cradling Ben’s head and Ben’s hands roaming Callum’s body. His fingers drag up Callum’s side and it tickles, he kicks his leg out, sending Ben’s beer bottle clattering to the ground. It shakes them awake, out of their heated haze and they laugh, noses bumping and bellies shaking together.

“Bit of a mood killer, ain’t it?”

“Just a bit.” Callum drops his head into Ben’s shoulder.

“I should put that on my gravestone: cause of death, cockblocked by a beer bottle.”

Callum laughs, _really_ laughs, he’s borderline hysterical but he can’t help it. He’s here with Ben and they’re doing _this_ and he looks like he’s giddy because he _is_ giddy.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep, ay? Tomorrow's a big day.” Ben tucks Callum’s head into the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms around him. Callum follows suit, settling an arm around Ben’s waist and burying his face in the warm skin of Ben’s neck. He smiles wide and thinks that laying here, wrapped in Ben’s arms with his fingertips tracing patterns on Callum’s back, his warm body sending heat through Callum, breathing him in, he might just get some sleep after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had an idea for another fic that I'm very excited about. I'm going to try and finish this one before I lose myself in my new idea but we'll see if I can hold off (I've already got a plan for it, oops). Who knows, by the time I've finished this I might have completely changed my mind and decide not to write it but I guess only time will tell! 
> 
> Thanks for reading : )


	7. Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum looks down at the younger man and takes a moment to appreciate just how beautiful he is. The way freckles litter his nose and cheeks, the delicate line of his jaw, the way the tips of his eyelashes are pale in the early morning light coming in through the half-drawn curtains and the way his soft lips are parted as slow sleepy breaths escape and make the skin on Callum’s neck tingle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 is (finally) here!
> 
> Sorry I've taken longer to update than normal, life just got in in the way a bit then I had a bit of writer's block and then I got anxious about not posting and that made it harder to write so it was just a whole mess. Anyway, I hope this chapter isn't too terrible as a result! 
> 
> Also I've had a bit of a rethink which means that this is the penultimate chapter. Thanks so much for reading so far and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> tw: mention of past homophobia and description of a car accident.

Callum wakes to the sound of rhythmic breathing, a warm body pressed against him radiating warmth into his body, a smaller hand loosely enveloped in his own. Despite Ben taking Callum in his arms last night he’s woken to Ben laying on him, his head resting on Callum’s chest and he can’t help but think this is the way it’s meant to be. He looks down at the younger man and takes a moment to appreciate just how _beautiful_ he is. The way freckles litter his nose and cheeks, the delicate line of his jaw, the way the tips of his eyelashes are pale in the early morning light coming in through the half-drawn curtains and the way his soft lips are parted as slow sleepy breaths escape and make the skin on Callum’s neck tingle.

Like this, with Ben so close, all of his barriers down and protected in his arms, Callum lets his mind wonder. He thinks of a life where him and Ben can be together unencumbered by Phil or Danny or whatever else there is lurking around the corner to threaten their happiness. A life he’s always dreamed of having but never let himself think into reality, a reality where they share a house, maybe a dog or even a kid or two. Where they are just blissfully happy living their lives together with no one and nothing getting in their way. He knows its way to early to think about these things, but he’s been deprived for so long. Besides, his imagination was always what got him through the particularly tough times when he was a kid, imagining that something better is just around the corner, that somewhere out there is a place where he belongs, far away from the horrors of his childhood and a person he belongs there with. Callum’s always been a dreamer, he’s always had to be.

Callum thinks of holding Ben tightly in his arms, back to chest, their warm skin pressed together, Ben’s head resting against his shoulder. He yearns for Ben beneath him, laid out and panting, flushed cheeks and electric eyes and burning flesh and hands grabbing at Callum until he pins him down and--

He’s yanked out of his daydream by the sound of his alarm ringing on his phone. Shit. Real world. It’s 6am and he has to be at work in an hour and a half. He leans forward to turn it off but Ben curls around his arm, rendering his phone just out of reach.

“Ben.. Ben wake up” he shakes him softly.

“Hmm?” he breathes deeply, his first waking breath of the new day and squeezes Callum’s hand.

“I can’t reach my phone, need to turn the alarm off.” Ben loosens his grip but doesn’t let go and Callum reaches his phone to turn off the alarm.

“Callum? What are you-“ he rubs his eye with his free hand, his face a picture of confusion until it’s one of clarity instead. He utters a soft “oh” a coy smile on his lips. He holds Callum’s hand tighter, more confidently because it feels right, it _is_ right.

“Sorry it’s so early, got work” Callum says, holding up his phone. “Covering a shift with Lola, anything to get me out the doghouse.” The butterflies in his belly rise up, transforming into the nerves that cloud the edges of his laugh.

“What do you mean the doghouse? I thought you two were _besties_?” Even when he’s just woken up his sarcasm is sharp as ever and Callum isn’t sure if he wants to roll his eyes or kiss Ben until they become one.

“We are, we just had a little fight that’s all. We’re all good now though.” He confirms, grinning like a teenager as he plays with Ben’s fingers.

Ben nods, “it’s a good thing anyway, you probably shouldn’t be here when the old man wakes up” Ben says, pointing to the ceiling, “actually, I probably shouldn’t either.”

Callum stills their intertwined fingers, “did you mean what you said last night? About your dad? You don’t have to Ben you can take it back if you-“

“No. no I meant it. Every word” it firm, decisive, and it gives Callum all the courage he needs to reach out and cup Ben’s cheek, his hand stretching over more than half of Ben’s face. Ben leans into the touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale at Callum’s wrist, breathing him in. “I’ll call you today, or text of that’s better with work. Let you know how preparations are going for tonight. Let me know if you hear any more from Danny, yeah?” He says on his exhale, like the words passively slip out of him, like he wants to keep all of his energy for Callum, for breathing him in, drowning in him, learning everything there is to know about him. The thought alone makes Callum feel a little lightheaded.

Callum nods weakly, in the bliss of waking up with Ben in his arms he had almost forgotten about Danny and the job and their plan. _11:45 tomorrow at the South Docks. Come_ _alone._ He gulps at the memory of Danny’s command. He has just over 17 hours before he needs to meet Danny, alone, in the middle of nowhere where his body could very easily be disposed of into the Thames and no one would know.

“Hey… hey it’s ok. This is gonna work and listen to me Callum” Callum’s fear must have been written on is face because Ben’s voice is soft and reassuring, but it suddenly takes a more serious edge and he’s staring into Callum’s eyes with a determination he’s never seen before and a breath hitches in Callum’s throat “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Callum shakes his head, “I have to go alone, you saw what Danny said.”

Ben laughs, “You think I’d let you go alone? I’ll be there.”

“But your dad?”

“I’ll be there Callum.” He says firmly, it’s almost stern and Callum knows there’s no arguing with Ben on this one so he doesn’t, he just pulls him in and holds him close and hopes that the fragments of these two broken souls might just fit together to make one whole one.

They’re stood in the kitchen, Ben’s leaning against the counter, watching Callum as he puts his hoodie on as he gets ready to leave and it feels so domestic, like they’ve done this hundreds of times and have the infinite possibility of more. Callum opens the back door and before he knows it Ben is at his side, pulling him back to face him. He leans up and slowly moves in, looking deep into Callum’s eyes until their lips meet, softly. Callum can taste Ben on his tongue, and it sends shivers of delight down his spine. He feels light, like he’s floating and its addictive, _Ben’s_ addictive. Needing a bigger hit he leans into the kiss, wanting more, needing more, but he’s stopped by a hand on his chest.

“If we start that you’ll never leave.” Ben laughs, trying to hide how dangerously honest his words are. He clears his throat, and then, “go to work, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Y-yeah” Callum nods. The thought of _later_ sends a very different kind of shiver down his spine.

Its 4pm when Callum and Lola finally get back to the Ambulance Station after back to back calls that ranged from clearing up the last few straggling revellers from the previous night in the early hours to a man with chest pains and a child that had hit their head playing at home. There was nothing too crazy to report which Callum was grateful for; despite him sleeping like a baby with Ben in his arms he still hadn’t gotten much sleep, and despite being at work he was still an anxious mess; simultaneously feeling that the day is going agonisingly slowly and never wanting this shift to end for fear of what will follow it.

“Come on, spill. What’s up with you today?” Lola asks, exasperation clear in her tone after Callum, distracted again, bumps into the doorway on his way through it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” He replies, defensive.

“Yeah you do. First you come in this morning with the sun shining out of your arse you were so happy, and since you’ve just gotten more.. weird. You were forgetting patients’ names earlier and normally you’re great at that, leaving your equipment bag in the ambulance when we got to a call, Callum, you nearly hit a car on the way to a call earlier. I don’t know where your head is today but its not on the job and it needs to be. Always. You know that Callum.”

_It is on the job, just not this one._

“You’re right, I’m sorry. From now on I am completely focused.” He flashes what he hopes is a reassuring smile and passes Lola on the way to the kitchen, where Martin, Whitney and Shirley are chatting on a tea break.

“Oh my god, Martin you are such a bloke!” Whit exclaims, clearly frustrated. “Oi Callum, you’re a guy”

“Last I checked”

“Tell me, I went on a date with a guy the other night right and he hasn’t called me.”

“Ok..”

“But he said he would.” She adds, insistent, like this guy’s word changes everything.

“Ok..?”

“So why do blokes do that? What’s wrong with me?” she whines, head in hands.

“Not sure Callum’s the best one ask Whit” Martin adds before Callum can reassure her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Callum questions, a heat spreading through him that he hasn’t felt for a long time.

“Oh erm. Nothing mate. Just that well, you know.” If he’s waiting for Callum to save him he’s going to be waiting a long time. “ Just that you’re a good guy and well, you’re into blokes- which is fine! Great even. It's just that- you know. I just erm- I dunno you’re maybe not the best person to say what a guy wants from a woman. I didn't mean anything by it. Sorry.” Martin flounders, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

Callum watches Martin for a moment, then nods. He knows that Martin means no harm, but with the upbringing he had even the smallest thing that suggests Callum isn’t ‘normal’ can send him back to when he was a scared little boy being brainwashed into thinking that he was wrong and broken and disgusting. But he’s not that little boy anymore and he’s not those things. He’s an out and proud man with friends who love and accept him and he woke up this morning with a beautiful man in his arms that unlike his father actually cares about him.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you Whit. The guy’s a dick. Best just move on I think.” He says, giving Whitney a hug before making his way to the kettle and giving Martin a gentle pat on the shoulder to say that they’re ok. He smiles, message received.

He returns to the table, placing a cup of tea in front of Lola and receiving a warm smile and sits, sipping at his own. Whitney continues to talk about some kind of man drama until Shirley chimes in telling her that listening to her endless boy drama makes her want to cut her ears off, which promptly shuts Whitney up. They fall into their normal chatter, but Callum isn’t listening. He assumes it includes talking about what they watched on TV last night or what they’re having for dinner, discussing patients they’ve had on their shift so far and if conversation starts to dry up someone will tease Martin about his drunken antics at Callum’s birthday. He was right, Martin really never would live that night down.

They’re giggling and prodding at Martin like he’s some kind of performing animal, and Callum takes the opportunity where they’re distracted to slip off to the bathroom unnoticed to check his phone for what feels like the millionth time today.

Yet again he’s greeted by a blank screen. No messages or missed calls from Ben, and nothing more from Danny either. He takes a deep breath but it doesn’t do much to calm the unease that’s been stirring in him all day, Ben didn’t say when he’d contact Callum but he would have thought he’d have heard from him by now. The logical part of his brain tells him to calm down, that Ben is just busy going over plans with Phil and that he will let Callum know what’s going on when the time is right, but the other part of his brain, the one that runs wild and often overpowers the logic is screaming that something is wrong, that Ben should have called by now and the fact that he hasn’t can only mean trouble. He breathes deeply again, feeling like its all he does these days and pockets his phone, returning to the others in the station.

When he gets there though, only Lola is sat at the table, “big RTC, they all got called away” she fills him in in response to his confusion at the near empty table. He nods slowly, any more thoughts he has are extinguished by the sound of their walkie talkies buzzing.

“Alpha 4318 responding” Lola replies to the dispatcher and Callum listens as they’re given information about their next call, a teenage boy with a suspected broken leg in a park. “Received and on the way, over.” She says as they both put on their jackets and make their way to the ambulance.

Callum drives, he wants to busy his hands and his mind, put all thoughts of Ben and the job in a box and lock it all away for a bit and driving the ambulance at speed through busy London traffic with arseholes that don’t pull over has always proven to be a very effective distraction.

“Well, at least it doesn’t sound like a difficult shout” Lola says, watching the world flash by them in a blur through the window.

“Always expect the unexpected, you know that Lo” he laughs, glancing over at her. “But yeah, just sounds like some kids got a bit carried away.”

They’re about halfway to the park when Lola’s walkie talkie buzzes again. “Alpha 4318 responding?” she says, looking over to Callum her face a question mark.

“Backup crew needed at an RTC on the M11. I’ll send the location to you now.” The dispatcher says.

” We’re already on the way to a call.” Lola counters clearly confused.

“You’re the closest crew to the RTC and it’s a higher priority than your current call. We’ll send another crew to the park.”

Lola shakes her head in surprise “ok, we’ll make our way there. On board system says out ETA is 7 minutes. Over and out.” She turns to Callum who is looking for a safe place to turn around in pursuit of their new destination. “I’ve never been diverted to another call before, not when I’m on the way to another one.” She says apprehension creeping into her voice.

“Me neither” is all Callum says before he makes a brisk U-turn and speeds off in the direction of the RTC.

“Always expect the unexpected, right?” she says nervously, Callum nods, swallowing hard.

“Move you idiot” he mutters under his breath as a car in front of them waits until the very last moment to pull over, blocking the path of the ambulance through the congested street. Lola gives the driver a judgemental an oh-so-British look as they pass and the driver looks back at her looking sheepish. _Good._

It feels like it been ages since they got diverted that Callum finally joins the M11, when in reality it’s only been minutes, he’s always found that racing to emergency calls can either go by in a flash or feel like you’re frozen in time, there’s no in between. Joining the motorway itself is much easier said than done as the queue from the accident has backed up all the way down the slip road, the beginnings of rush hour being caught in the gridlock.

Once they finally get to the scene and grab their equipment bags they’re met by Whitney who wastes no time in getting them up to speed. “Right, we’ve got 4 cars involved in an RTC, based on eyewitness reports it looks like 2 of them were having some sort of race or something. Car A cut up car B” she points to a blue Audi as car A and another one through the treeline as car B. “So, they collided, and 2 cars behind couldn’t stop in time so they were also involved in the collision. We’ve got 5 walking wounded from those 2 cars, they seem fine, mostly shock and probably a bit of whiplash, they’re being triaged now over there.” She points to a spot about ten feet away where a few ambulances are parked, and screens have been put up to form an area for triage. “From the other two we have 3 patients, one critical, one entrapment but he’s stable for now and the other is being.. difficult.”

“What do you mean difficult?” Lola asks.

“He’s refusing treatment.”

“Why?” Callum asks, filling in for Lola as she’s called away by another paramedic Callum doesn’t recognise.

“God knows, but they’re not my patient so it’s not my problem” Whitney sighs, exhausted. It’s unlike her to be so dismissive of other patients but Callum gets it, calls like these are always a lot but being one of the first on the scene and having to set up cordons, deal with the public, make arrangements with the police and fire crews and assess the patients is no mean feat. He gives her shoulder a squeeze and she gives him a tired, appreciative smile.

“Callum, over here!” A few minutes later Lola is calling him over from triage, he gives Whitney a small smile of encouragement before heading over to join her.

“Bet you’re glad we’re covering this shift ay?” she jokes while handing Callum a pair of gloves.

“Oh, ecstatic” he replies, his response sarcastic but he’s quietly grateful for the distraction until 11:45 rolls around tonight. His insides contract at the brief reminder so he claps his hands briskly and moves towards his first patient.

An hour later Callum is still knee deep in triage, which is only made worse by members of the public asking what’s going on, complaining they’re going to be late getting to god knows where and claiming they're suffering from shock. With being rushed off his feet and thoughts of the job tonight randomly popping into his head he’s quickly losing his patience, and wishes Lola was still there helping him, but she had been called away to help with the critical patient about 20 minutes ago.

“Ah, Callum. How’s it going?” Martin claps Callum on the shoulder as he passes, getting some more supplies from the ambulance. Callum shrugs a mix between _same old same old_ and _god help me_ that somehow Martin seems to pick up on.

“Look, mate about earlier I’m sorry.” He says, looking sheepish.

“Honestly Martin, it’s fine. No harm done.” He smiles, before turning back to finish suturing a cut on his patient’s arm.

“Right, good. Actually, I could use your help with the entrapment, the fire crew are cutting him out now, could do with another pair of hands to move him.”

“Sure” Callum nods, tying off the final suture and letting Keegan, one of their newer recruits know that he’s leaving. He takes one of the equipment bags from a laden Martin and they begin their walk over to ‘car B’ as Whitney had called it.

“Guys! Guys, there’s been a fatality” Lola pants, catching up to them. “The critical guy, we just lost him.” Before Callum has the chance to ask if she’s ok she’s off again, running towards one of the ambulances to busy herself with something else.

Martin lets out a long breath, “I guess let’s just try not to lose another one.” He’s solemn as he nods towards the car hidden behind the trees. Callum nods once, putting one foot in front of the other.

They’re at the treeline when Callum stops in his tracks, his mouth goes dry and his head spins. He has to steady himself on Martin’s arm at the sight before him. His heart starts hammering in his chest at the sight of what’s barely recognisable as a car anymore; it clearly rolled off the road and has been battered out of shape, none of the windows survived the crash, the rear passenger wheel is sticking out at an odd angle and most of the roof has been removed by the fire crew. Only half of the rear number plate remains on the car, but by some kind of twisted luck the other half is laying on the ground at Callum’s feet and it confirms what he was already 99% sure of. That he is in fact looking at the mangled remains of the silver BMW he’s seen around the Square and has come to recognise as Ben’s. 

Somewhere amidst the sea of profanities, thoughts of _it’s happening again, just like Chris_ , _you have to save him, you can’t lose this one,_ one thought crystallises in his mind, and it’s clearer and more sobering than any thought he’s ever had before.

Ben.

More thoughts come, pilling in through the floodgate and Callum is overwhelmed by them all. _He’s in the car, he’s trapped, he’s going to die. You’re going to lose him like you lost Chris because you didn’t help him. You’ve been here for fucking hours treating fucking cuts and he’s been feet away dying._

He can’t breathe, can’t get enough air into his lungs but then something else makes his heart sink even further, makes bile rise in his throat and a thin layer of sweat coat his entire body. Echoes of _there’s been a fatality_ form a chorus in his head, getting louder and louder until it’s all he can hear, it even drowns out the thumping of his heart in his ears.

_What if he’s already gone? What if you’re already too late? What if you’ve lost him before he was even yours?_

_Again._

There’s a sudden outbreak of noise but Callum doesn’t hear it, he’s charging forward before he knows it but a firm hand clamps down on his shoulder.

“Callum! What are you doing? Did you not hear them, there’s petrol leaking out the car. It could blow any second!” He barely has time to process Martin’s words before he hears it.

“CALLUM!”

He spins so fast he nearly loses his footing but it’s worth it because there he is. Ben. Blood trickles down one side of his face and he's standing as if he's trying to avoid putting weight on his left leg but he's there. Alive and well wrapped in a silver blanket in the back of an ambulance. He smiles, relief plain to see on his face, he takes a few tentative steps towards Callum, and instinctively Callum does the same. There’s still probably 20 feet between them, and the space is littered with green uniforms, high vis jackets, blue lights, police officers and car debris but with Ben smiling at him and him smiling back it feels like the carnage around them no longer exists.

“Guys, we need some help over here!” he snaps back to reality to see a paramedic at Ben’s car, struggling to get Phil free from the wreckage. He doesn’t have time to think, in situations like these thinking only hinders. If he could think he would think that this is his job, that he knows the risks and that just like in the army he puts on his uniform everyday to save others, and by doing so, saving himself. He would think that this is Ben’s dad, whom though he claims to hate, Ben would be absolutely destroyed if he lost him.

These are the thoughts he would have if he had the time, but he doesn’t. Time is a luxury, and luxuries don’t exist in life or death situations. He allows himself one more look at Ben, who’s smile fades into a look of horror as he clocks what Callum is about to do.

Despite being a quiet, peaceful man who always tries is best to treat others with kindness, Callum has always found himself drawn to chaos, to violence, to war. If he’s honest he thinks his attraction to Ben isn’t as separate from that as he’d like it to be. He’s always put it down to the volatile upbringing he had, that was he was taught, all that he knew and while he hated it and did everything in his power to escape it, he’s always ended up in a dangerous environment since. The army, falling into crime, risking his life on perilous calls. It’s safer, almost comforting, the crack of a fist against a cheekbone, the popping of gunfire in the distance, getting closer with each step he took, the thrill of driving the getaway car, running and hoping to god he doesn’t get caught. It’s all he knows.

But that’s not all he is, he is also the Callum that his friends and patients know, the one who would go out on a limb to help anyone. He can’t help it, it’s a hangover of being so paralysed by the helplessness he felt as a child that he needs to help whoever he can whenever he can, and as always, he thinks about the consequences for himself later. It’s what got him injured in the army, going back to save the little girl but being too late to save her mother. After her and then Chris Callum swore to himself that he would never let anyone else die because he wasn’t fast enough, because he couldn’t get there in time.

That promise is what propels his movement towards the car, his legs running full pelt into danger, the smell of petrol getting stronger by the second, running to save someone in need.

It happens in slow motion, the drop of petrol dripping from underneath the car, the spark from the fire crew’s saw falling into it. He just about hears Ben scream his name again when the world erupts in front of him, he’s dazzled by a blinding flash of white, followed by the yellows and oranges of all-engulfing flames, the wall of heat, the sheer force of it all that knocks him off his feet and sends him flying, he hears Ben screaming again and the smack of his skull against the tarmac and then nothing.


	8. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter! 
> 
> I'm a bit sad it's over and I totally underestimated how daunting it would be to write the ending, but I hope you like the chapter and the conclusion to the story. 
> 
> I want to say a huge thank you to you all for reading, leaving kudos and your lovely comments, especially those who have commented throughout. Each comment has been a lovely boost and really encouraged me to keep going so a big, big thank you for that :) 
> 
> Again, a massive thank you and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> tw: talk of the army, injury description, reference to the car accident and mild references to past abuse and homophobia.

Callum wakes to the sound of rhythmic beeping, hard metal pressing into his body though a thin mattress, a warm hand enveloping his own. 

He’s been here before, laid in a foreign bed, trapped in the confines of his broken body, any attempt at communication too exhausting to even think about. Even opening his eyes is too much right now, so he lets the beeping of machines, smell of antiseptic, low chatter of staff in the hallway and the stiff crunch of the synthetic pillowcase under his head guide him. _He’s in hospital. He was at work, there was an RTC,_ he faintly registers the beeping of his heart monitor speeding up in the distance has he pieces together what happened. _There was an explosion, there was a fatality. Ben was there._

Ben.

It takes an immense effort, but when he eventually cracks his eyes open he’s rewarded immediately by a sight he’s never known he’s needed this much until this moment. Ben’s head is resting on Callum’s leg, his fingers wrapped around his own. He lets out a sharp breath, wincing when it burns his sides, relief flooding him. Ben’s sleeping, soft deep breaths escaping him but his brow is furrowed and he looks anything but peaceful. Callum wants to hold him, take him in his arms and ease whatever suffering he’s enduring, but he can’t move. His body feels like a dead weight and everything hurts. He’s covered in wires and bandages and just opening his eyes made him want to fall asleep again instantly. He tries to speak instead, taking a few deeper breaths in preparation but it just makes his lungs burn, everything seems to make his lungs burn right now. He wants to let Ben know he’s there but no sound comes out and when it eventually does it’s just a hushed croaky splutter.

He closes his eyes again, partly in frustration and partly in exhaustion. When he tries to open them again he finds that it’s too much, that any resistance is futile so he lets himself be dragged back into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

When he opens his eyes again the daylight burns them. He shuts them tight, still seeing the remnants of bright white spots in his vision and it takes him back to blinding flashes and iridescent flames.

He tries again, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust. Ben’s gone, the seat next to his bed vacant. He looks towards the window to see grey clouds and water droplets forming a delicate film on the window. He also notes that he’s probably two or three floors up, before looking down at his body; bandages cover his right arm and a number of IVs pierce his skin. He reaches up, which sends a surge of agony through his body, to feel a central line in his neck and the pain from moving his arm makes his body jerk; a vicious cycle of pain. He winces at it all and contorting his face sends another dull wash of pain through him, bruising clearly abundant on his face, the discomfort dotted with sharper, localised stinging which he guesses are down to lacerations on his cheeks and hairline. He feels a tube in his side and assumes it’s a chest drain, god, he really did do a number on himself this time.

He breathes deeply- as deeply as his damaged ribs will allow- and lets his eyes fall closed again. It’s quiet, the usual hubbub of the ward fading into white noise. With his sight eliminated he feels like he could be anywhere, save for the lack of gunfire and screaming he could be in the infirmary in Afghanistan, he can almost smell the blood and sweat and decay _._ If his body would let him he’d laugh at how funny it is that Walford General and a field hospital In Afghanistan may seem words apart but in reality their fundamentals are the same. He would laugh at how fucking _hilarious_ it is that he always wakes up when so many others don’t.

He takes a mental note of his injuries, just like he did last time, but this time around he has a better understanding of what they mean. He thought it would be comforting to know more, to not be stuck in his hospital bed unable to move and only being able to guess at the horrors his body has been put through, but it’s not. It turns out ignorance is bliss after all. 

His gaze falls in front of him, to the table that’s been pulled half across his bed. It’s pretty empty except for a few magazines probably left by Lola. Callum’s watch is also there along with something else that brings a soft smile to his face. Sat in the centre of the table is a blueberry muffin that could only have been put there by one person, can only mean one thing.

“Callum” Ben’s standing in the doorway and Callum has never been so happy to see him, but it’s short lived because seconds later Ben is halfway out the door calling a nurse. “Nurse! Nurse he’s awake.”

A sea of doctors and nurses flood the room, asking Callum what day it is, what he remembers, who the prime minister is and lots of other questions he’d be an idiot not to know the answer to. They make sense, though, when a consultant tells him that he’s been in a medically induced coma for three days to reduce swelling on his brain and Callum is floored. He swears he was only asleep for a few hours.

“What’s your pain like” the nurse Ben flagged down- Jennifer, apparently- asks.

Callum grunts in reply and she laughs softly, preceding to give him more morphine that hits almost immediately. _Thank god._

After their barrage of questions and tests, the medical team eventually trickle out of the room, letting Callum know they’ll be back for half hourly observations and to take him for some scans later. He nods, thanking them before turning his attention to Ben, who has been stood patiently at the back of the room, watching with mild horror at the doctors and nurses poking and prodding at Callum.

“Typical. I’m at your bedside for 3 days and you wake up in the 5 minutes I go for a piss.” Ben may sound sarcastic, cocky as ever, but his eyes tell a different story. Deep purple bags hang low under his eyes and his hair is an absolute mess, grease dirtying it at his temples. His shoulders sag a little and he looks absolutely shattered, a far cry from the pristine Ben Mitchell the world is used to seeing. Any part of his face not touched by bags or a pretty impressive 3-day stubble instead are covered in scabbed over cuts and green-yellow bruises and his left arm is encased in a cast.

Despite all of that, though, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his tired eyes glowing with happiness and relief.

“How long you been sitting on that one?”

“Oh ages” they both huff out a laugh but Callum’s dissolves into a painful coughing fit instead.

“Your arm” he murmurs when he can breathe again.

“Seriously? You’ve just been unconscious for days and you’re worrying about a broken arm?”

“It’s my job.” He shrugs, that’s always his answer even when he’s not working.

“And there I was thinking I was special.”

“You are” it’s a moment of pure sincerity in the middle of a catastrophic mess and it makes them both smile, shy teenagers-in-love smiles.

“What do you remember?” Ben sits in the chair, getting their conversation back on track, or completely derailing it depending on your viewpoint.

“Dunno really. I remember waking up yesterday, no err. Whenever it was. You were there” he says through a smile. “Went to work, had a few shouts nothing too exciting. Went back to the ambulance station and I remember I was worried that I hadn’t heard from you. Must’ve checked my phone a hundred times. The others got called to the RTC and me and Lo was called in later for backup.” He closes his eyes and takes some time to breathe, all this thinking and talking is too much at the moment.

“I was treating some walking wounded and then Martin wanted my help. I saw the car and it was so banged up and I wondered how anyone could survive that. But then… then I saw it was yours and just full on panicked. I ran. I just ran as fast as I could and then I saw you but they needed me so I kept going.” His breathing has quickened, and tears have pooled at the outer edges of his eyes. Ben moves forward in his chair and takes Callum’s hand in his.

“Cal”

“I remember it being hot. Flying through the air for what felt like forever and I could see the sky and hear you voice and.. and I remember thinking that if this is it then it’s ok.”

“Jesus Christ Callum don’t talk like that” Ben breathes. A tear rolls down his cheek and he’s squeezing Callum’s hand with both of his and it hurts like hell but its nothing compared to if he let go.

“You don’t understand, I thought I’d lost you”

“You thought you’d lost me?” Ben snorts, incredulous, “you ran into a fucking explosion Callum.”

“Yeah, probably not my best idea” he lets out a watery laugh, gesturing to his broken body. “Oh god, Ben. Your dad?”

“He’s ok,” Ben assures, waving a hand in indifference “somehow they got him out in time. He’s upstairs in another ward.”

“That’s good”

“Yeah. In other good news Danny’s dead”

“The fatality” Callum whispers, thinking out loud.

“Yep” Ben smiles.

“You know, you could pretend to not be so happy, a man is dead”

“But Callum, I _am_ happy. That arsehole has had it out for my family as long as I can remember, not to mention what he did to you. Honestly it’s a relief.”

Callum sighs, he supposes Ben is right. “So Danny’s... what does that mean. For me I mean, for us”

“Well it means you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Your family are safe, you’re safe.” Ben lightly shakes Callum’s hand in his, it’s gentle but it’s firm. An unspoken _you’re safe, I’ll keep you safe._

“Right.” Callum’s relieved to know that him and his loved ones are safe but he can’t help but feel bad at the fact that someone had to die for his freedom, even if that someone was Danny Hardcastle.

“Jesus Callum don’t tell me you feel bad for him? The guy was gonna kill you and your family!”

“What happened that day? Why didn’t I hear from you? Whit said you and Danny were racing?” Callum fires quickly, changing the subject.

Half an hour must have passed because the nurse Jennifer enters the room, cutting off Ben’s answer. “Mr. Highway. Glad to see you’re back with us. How are you feeling?”

“o-ok yeah. Bit tired and everything hurts but the morphine earlier helped a lot. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good. Let me know if you want anything, just press this button here.” She says, pointing to the call button before taking his pulse and watching the screens carefully for readings of Callum’s vitals. “We have to cater for our heroes!” there it is, that word that Callum’s heard so many times. _Hero._ It doesn’t fit, its not right. _It’s his job._

Jennifer finishes up, placing Callum’s notes back in the holder at the end of his bed and cleaning her hands. She gives Ben a warm smile and a squeeze on the shoulder before she leaves that Ben returns with a kind smile of his own. Huh, Ben being nice to a stranger he’s not trying to sleep with. That’s new.

Ben turns back to Callum, his face serious picking up right where they left off. “We weren’t racing. Everything was going fine for the job but then somehow Danny got wind of my dad’s involvement and he went batshit, like proper psycho and came after us. He was chasing us on the motorway and cut us up and that’s when we crashed. The dickhead ran us off the fucking road.”

Callum blinks, the only thing he can do that doesn’t hurt, taking it all in. “Well, I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, I got off pretty lightly really. Just a broken arm and some cracked ribs, and cuts and bruises obviously.” He says gesturing to his wounded face.

They fall into a comfortable silence that’s filled with uncomfortable thoughts of _what if he wasn’t so lucky, what if it had been worse, what if he’d died, what if…_

“Thanks for the muffin” Callum blurts, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts.

“Oh. Yeah. Its more of a symbolic thing, you’re not allowed to eat yet. And even if you could I wouldn’t if I was you, it’s been there since yesterday. That’s when they started trying to wake you up.” Ben chuckles, but it’s humourless and Callum can see the toll the last 72 hours have taken on the younger man.

“I guess the swelling can’t have been that bad then, if they were already trying to wake me up yesterday” Callum muses, his medical knowledge taking over in an attempt to downplay the severity of his injuries.

“Whatever, it was still there. That’s what happens when you’re fucking propelled into the air and land head first on concrete.”

“I didn’t land head first” Callum tuts at Ben’s dramatics.

“You didn’t see it”

“I felt it” it’s a joke, but Ben doesn’t laugh. He ignores him, or maybe he didn’t hear him, lost in his own memories.

“The sound of your head hitting the ground..” Ben mutters, shaking his head. “I’ll never forget it. It makes me feel a bit sick just thinking about it. I thought you were dead; you were so still you weren’t moving. I thought there’s no way anyone could survive that.” Ben’s speaking but he’s gone, his eyes glazed over and staring into the distance as he replays the horror in his mind’s eye.

“Hey, hey I’m here. I did survive it ok? I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Callum reassures him, placing his other hand on Ben’s face and directing Ben’s eyes to his own, bringing him back to the room, to Callum.

They fall into a joint reverie, both men revelling in the feel of the other, the warmth of each other’s skin, at how lucky they are that there’s still blood pumping through the other’s veins.

“I should go see my dad before it’s too late.” Ben announces, moving suddenly, disturbing the peace and making Callum’s insides jump.

“What? Ben I thought you said he was ok?”

Ben looks confused before he realises how his words must have sounded “Oh he is. Sorry that came out wrong. His room is surrounded by police, they only want visitors coming at certain times.”

“Why’s his room surrounded by police?”

Ben sighs deeply, looking even more tired than he did before. “He confessed. To the robbery, any link they find to the job that was meant to happen, dangerous driving, everything. And.. and he’s taking the fall for me, too.” He adds, sheepish.

“Why?”

“We had a talk, I told him how much damage he’s done. That I’ve finally found someone that I want to be with and can see a future with, that I want out.” Ben snorts, “he must have hit his head pretty hard in the crash ‘cause he actually felt bad. I think he’s trying to make amends or something, I dunno, but it’s wrong to look a gift horse in the mouth, right?”

Callum just nods, momentarily lost for words until he finds them again, “how do you feel about that?”

Ben lets out a long sigh, scratching the back of his neck. “Dunno really. I mean it’s great that I don’t have to worry about the police, but I think he expects me to just forgive him now and I don’t know if I can do that. I probably sound ungrateful,” he snorts “dad would probably give me a clap round the ear for this- at least. I mean he’s going to fucking prison for me but it just feels a bit too little too late, you now?”

_Yeah. Yeah I know._

“It aint like he’s innocent Ben. Plus a lot of your crimes you did because of him. My dad never even tried to make it up to us, if I was you I’d just take it and run.”

Ben nods once, not entirely convinced “Yeah” she says softly. “I should go and see him. I’ll be back later, yeah?”

“Yeah” Callum smiles. Ben plants a gentle kiss on Callum’s forehead and he lets his eyes fall closed, a warmth spreading through his body.

Callum hadn’t realised he’d been dosing off again, lulled to sleep by Ben's warm breath and soft lips, until he was startled awake by some god-awful singing. “For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow!”

“Martin, shut up, he’s sleeping” he hears Lola chastise in a hushed voice. Martin starts another chorus in a stage whisper, but he’s cut off by a raspy voice.

“Never mind Callum, you’d wake the dead with that racket.” Shirley snorts.

He creaks an eye open to see Martin looking embarrassed, as well as Shirley, Lola and Whitney standing at the end of his bed, arms full of flowers and a teddy bear holding a heart the says ‘Get well soon’ on it. He raises an eyebrow at it and Lola holds it out, giving it a little shake like you would if playing with a baby.

“Guys shh, he’s awake” Whitney whispers.

“You guys would make really bad burglars.” They all laugh, and Callum also cracks a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Lola asks, depositing the bear on the over-bed table and resting a hand on his shin.

“Like a hero I bet!” Martin answers and they all look at him adoringly. Callum wants to scream.

Instead, Callum ignores him “ok, a bit sore but I’ve had worse, you know, after...” he doesn’t say the army, he manages to stop himself in time, but it’s still too late because they know what he was going to say and they continue to look at him like he’s something to be revered. Fuck.

“Well, you did go through it a bit.” Whiney muses.

“Thankfully there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage, you know...” Martin trails off, tapping his finger to his head.

“Yeah, you’re still an idiot” Shirley chimes and Callum rolls his eyes, sending an ache though his head unlike any he’s ever felt before.

“Other than the head thing, what else is wrong?” They all look at each other, nervous like Callum’s a kid that’s just asked how babies are made. Eventually Lola pipes up.

“Four broken ribs, you had a tension pneumothorax at the scene, but Martin and Shirley sorted that for you” Martin gives Callum a quick salute and Shirley looks up at him like he’s a plonker. “Somehow you managed to rupture your spleen, had a pretty hefty internal bleed, so that’s gone. And you’ve also got some burns on your arm and side..” she says, hesitantly, before quickly adding “second degree and mostly superficial so they shouldn’t scar. Might have some pigmentation there but nothing too crazy.” Callum shrugs, scars don’t bother him, any scars from the burns wouldn’t be his first, and they won’t be his last. “Other than that just a lot of cuts and bruises, you’re gonna need a lot of rest. Your body’s got a lot of healing to do.” She finishes, squeezing his leg sympathetically.

Ah, that’s the part he was afraid of.

He hides his apprehension with a lacklustre chuckle and asks the question he’s been dreading “Come on Shirl, put me out of my misery. How long will I be off?”

“Six weeks, maybe eight depending on how you are.” She says, actually sounding sympathetic for the first time in the many years Callum has known her.

_Fuck._

“Six weeks! What am I meant to do for all that time?”

“Or eight” she repeats, stern. “Recover.”

Callum huffs, he knows he must look like a whiney child but he can’t help it. He hates sitting around idle and wants to get back to he job he loves ASAP.

“Relax Callum,” Lola interrupts his internal tantrum. “I’ll be hassling you every day. I mean it, you’ll probably hear form me more than when you’re working with me. And I’m sure Ben can keep you…occupied.” She chirps, a cheeky grin spreading on her face as she unsuccessfully tries to stifle a giggle. He’d roll his eyes again if it didn’t make his head feel like it was about to explode.

“Honestly Callum, you’re lucky you’re recovering at all, it was pretty touch and go at times.” Whitney says tiredly “it’s a miracle we only lost one patient on that one, the crash was bad enough but then the explosion.”

Callum nods, humbled. “Ben said they got Phil out in time, how?”

“God knows” Whitney sighs. “By the sounds of it some of the fire crew and another paramedic, John I think his name was, just grabbed him and ran. Not exactly protocol but he’s alive.”

“That sounds-“

“Like a shit load of paperwork? Yeah. It is.” Shirley deadpans, clearly bitter at her increased workload.

Everyone- minus Shirley- laughs and she mostly takes it like a champ until she gets fed up and reminds then all that she’s their boss and they compose themselves pretty quickly after that. A long, loud yawn rips from Callum making his sides burn and it signals the end of their visit. After ten minutes of goodbye hugs and get well soon’s they’re out the door, and no sooner are Callum’s eyes closed as he falls back into sleep.

When he wakes it’s almost dark outside. He watches as Jennifer leaves the room, having taken his obs again, and he can't stop the grin that forms on his lips when he sees his brother in the doorway, knocking softly on the door. “Stu!”

Stuart smiles, relieved at his warm welcome “What ya done to yourself this time?” Callum shrugs and Stuart shakes his head in disbelief.

‘Jesus, what is it with you and bloody explosions?’ It’s a joke, but Stuart looks horrified at the state of Callum laying in the hospital bed. Stuart’s always been Callum’s fierce protector, but he’s never been good at hiding his emotions, it’s the one thing they have in common. 

‘Guess they like me’ Callum replies, it’s a weak comeback but at this rate he’ll do anything to break the tension. It works, and Stuart laughs, dropping his head and shaking it a little. Stuart looks up to Callum, tears in his eyes and Callum can’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry but it was probably the last time Callum was battered in a hospital bed.

“I thought you was dead. When they called me and told me what happened it just took be back to last time” It dawns on Callum that of all of his visitors his brother is the only one that’s seen this before, and suddenly Callum’s not the only one reliving past trauma.

“I know” he swallows hard.

"Callum," _he never says Callum_ "I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He stares at his brother, an intense look in his eyes only slightly softened by the sheen of tears. 

“It’s ok, I’m here Stu. I ain’t going nowhere.” 

“That’s what you said last time” it's the smallest he's ever heard Stuart sound and it's nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart breaking.

He reaches for his brother’s hand, again ignoring the sharp pain that shoots through him because he can cope with it, because it’s nothing compared to the ache in his chest at seeing his brother like this again. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“Stu..”

“No no I am. And it ain’t just this, or the army. It’s dad too, everything when we was kids, the whole.. gay thing.” Callum bites back a sigh, Stuart tries but he’ll never be totally ok with his brother’s sexuality. “Whatever it is, you get through it. You pick yourself up and you get on with it. I wish I was like you.”

Fuck. He wasn’t expecting that. A wave of guilt washes over him, breaking in his chest and settling there making him feel heavy. He’s not some amazing person who can cope with anything. There was a time when most days he felt like he was falling apart more and more each day, almost reaching the point of no return where his broken parts couldn’t make a whole person again no matter how hard he tried. If only he was the older one, if only he could have protected Stuart the way he did for him, then maybe things would be different.

“I ain’t nothing special Stu, really. And honestly if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here. What you did for me when we was kids, I can’t ever repay that. You protected me from so much, you saved me Stu. I know you’ve done a lot of bad things that people judge you for, but you saved me, and you always will have.” 

Stuart looks astonished for a moment and opens his mouth to protest but either thinks better of it or realises he doesn’t have a counter argument so instead he stays quiet for a while, occasionally rubbing at his eyes roughly. He’s taking in Callum’s words and is clearly affected by them, “I met Ben.”

_Oh, god._

“Yeah?” Callum replies weakly.

“Yeah. He seems like a decent bloke. Obviously cares for you although he don’t like to admit it.”

“You don’t mind that he’s…” Callum trails off, too scared to finish the question, to break the spell.

“What?”

“A—a man” he stammers.

For a moment Stuart looks genuinely perplexed. “I know I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed Callum, but even I know what gay means. I didn’t think you’d keep dating women, did I?”

“Yeah but-“

“I know it ain’t always been this way but I’m just happy that you’re happy. Don’t matter who it’s with, you deserve to be happy Callum. Ok?” He smiles, but it dissolves into a frown “don’t expect me and Ben to be best mates or anything though. It will still take me a bit of time to… get used to it”

Callum nods, part of him wants to ask how much time he’ll need, if he’ll ever fully accept Callum for who he is, but the other part is just happy that his brother is here, after everything they’ve been through both together and separately.

“Oh er, I need to go” Stuart announces looking at his phone. “Got work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I got a job as a delivery driver” Stuart says, looking proud as punch before downplaying his achievement. “Nothing too exciting I know but its better than nothing, right?”

“Absolutely, Stu that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

“Relax bruv, I’m hardly Alan Sugar am I?”

“I know, but it’s a start.”

“Yeah” he says, grinning. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” Stuart pats Callum on the shoulder before making his way to the door. He stops there though, distracted by something just out of Callum’s line of sight.

“Alright?” he hears the voice and freezes. It’s tense and strained. Ben.

“Yeah, yeah” Stuart scratches his head awkwardly. He glances at Callum and back to Ben “you?”

“Yeah, fine” it’s another stilted reply but it’s a reply all the same. Stuart looks at Callum, smiling hopefully as if to say ‘I tried’. Callum gives him an encouraging smile and Stuart disappears out the door with a mumbled “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Right conversationalist he is” Ben jokes, plonking himself down in the chair next to Callum’s bed and adjusting in it with a grimace when he feels it’s still warm.

“Leave off, he’s trying” Callum watches Ben has he produces yet another blueberry muffin from a bag.

“Ta da!”

Callum scoffs, ”another one? I wish you’d given me a car in the cafeteria that day, I’d have a bloody fleet by now.”

“Ha ha” Ben says dryly “I spoke to your nurse earlier, you can eat solid foods now apparently” he says, breaking the muffin in half for them to share “not too much, mind.” He adds before taking a big bite of his half.

“Ben, I’m so sorry, for all this. These last few days must have been a nightmare for you.”

Ben stills, even his jaw stops chewing as he brings his head to face Callum, astounded. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? Callum you got injured- trying to save my dad’s life no less. You don’t need to apologise for anything.”

“I guess..”

“You _guess?_ Jesus Callum.” He snorts shaking his head. “Besides, it’s Jay I feel bad for. What with me and Lola yapping in his ear about you non-stop these last few days I think the man deserves a beer.”

“Don’t you mean ‘blondie’ I’m surprised you even know her name” Callum teases, playing Ben at his own game.

“Nah, she’s alright. Dresses like a fucking Tellytubby though” he adds as an afterthought, scratching at his beard.

Callum tries to laugh buts its more of a strangled splutter that is way more painful than its worth. “Don’t make me laugh”

“Sorry. I’ll be a boring old fart from now on.” He declares, putting his feet up on Callum’s bed. 

Before they can say any more Jennifer pokes her head round the door “good news” she says chirpily “you’re recovering well, the doctors are very impressed with you. You should be able to go home in a few days.”

“Oh, already? That’s great” Callum enthuses, he only woke up this morning, but he already can’t wait to get home.

“It is. You’re making a great recovery, it must the be support of your attentive boyfriend here” she says, giving a pointed glance to Ben who promptly drops his feet back to the floor and chokes on his muffin.

After he finally stops coughing and spluttering, Jennifer gets him a drink of water, which he sheepishly accepts with a mumbled “thanks”. She proceeds to examine Callum’s IVs, disconnecting some of them from their drug supply and telling him someone will be back later to remove his central line. She makes small talk as she works, but Callum is only half listening. He’s noticed Ben tense up and as much as he wants to deny it an uncomfortable air has settled in the room.

“All done!” she gathers her equipment, removing her gloves and sanitises her hands at the end of Callum bed before leaving.

They remain in silence, Ben staring intently as the floor, the rest of his killer muffin discarded on Callum’s bedside table.

“So..”

“Before you start, when they brought you in I had no idea what was going on. If you were ok, if you were even alive.” He’s speaking quickly, embarrassed by having to explain this to Callum, but that doesn’t stop a shudder slipping though him at the memory of that day. “Doctors were too busy tying to treat me even though I was fine and they wouldn’t listen to me when I kept asking about you, which just made me panic more. They kept saying that if I’m not family they can’t tell me anything so when a new nurse came in later I asked her how you were and told her I was your boyfriend so she’d talk. I dunno I guess word spread and it stuck.” He takes a deep breath, holding the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit weird.”

“It ain’t weird. It makes sense actually. It’s ok Ben, although, I think we should at least try a date before we get into ‘boyfriend’ territory.” He takes a small piece of muffin and shoves it in his mouth before he blurts anything else idiotic out. When he tries to swallow it he realises his mouth is dangerously dry and he tries to fool himself that his dry mouth is drug induced, or because he hasn’t eaten in days, and not because of what he just said _out loud_ to Ben.

Ben stays quiet for a moment, watching Callum and he can almost see the cogs turning in Ben’s brain, feel the heat radiating off him. “Why don’t we then?”

“Why don’t we what?” Callum questions, finally swallowing his bite of muffin with a gulp.

“Go on a date?” Ben says, shooting Callum a nervous smile. It’s so pure and unfiltered, it's the Ben that's all soft smiles and sleepy breaths, messy hair and squeezing Calllum's hand in the morning before he's even registered that he's awake. It's so _gorgeous_ that Callum can’t help but return it.

This is it. what Callum’s been searching for for as long as he can remember. No half-hearted attraction or having to convince himself that he’s happy, just the overwhelming excitement and nervous energy that comes with falling for someone. He felt like he'd been born again when he came out but this is a rebirth like no other. Ben rubs his hand up and down Callum’s thigh to bring him back, smiling so softly that Callum’s heart melts.

What came before doesn’t matter because this feels like a totally fresh start and Callum can’t wait. Sure, things had to break almost completely to get here but isn’t that all the more reason to not let it slip through their fingers?

_No. That's not an option. Not again._

“I’d like that.” Callum’s face bursts into a grin, he reaches out and takes Ben’s hand. “I’d like that a lot.”

Somewhere from the deep recesses of his mind, words come to the forefront, reminding him of someone he met the same day he met Ben. Doris’ advice comes back him clear as day, he can almost feel her eyes on him again, intense and unyielding.

_When you figure out what you were put on this earth for, you have to believe in it and live it completely._

When she said this to him all those weeks ago he thought of his job, that he was born to save lives and protect the public, and it’s true, to an extent. He adores his job and it gives him so more satisfaction and purpose that he ever thought possible. He’s also known for much longer than he’ll ever admit that he was meant to love men, and not just any man. He doesn’t know when it happened, but sometime over the last couple of months he realised that he was put on this earth to love Ben Mitchell. So for every second of every day for however long Ben will let him, that’s what he’ll do, and he’ll do it _completely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! I hope you liked it, thank you so so much for reading, let me know what you think :)
> 
> Also, as I mentioned a couple of chapters ago (I think) I've also been working on something else so hopefully you'll get to see that soon, I'm nervous but excited so let's hope I don't bottle it!


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